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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

PROFESSOR 
GEORGE  R.  STEWART 


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COUNSELS     TO    YOUNG    MEN 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER, 


THE    PRINCIPLES   WHICH    LEAD    TO    SUCCESS   AND   HAPPI- 
NESS  IN   LIFE  ; 


ADDRESSES 


PRINCIPALLY    DELIVERED   AT    THE   ANNIVERSARY   COMMENCE- 
MENTS  IN    UNION   COLLEGE. 


BY    ELIPHALET    NOTT,    D.D., 

PRESIDENT  OF  UNION   COLLEGK. 


ITEW    YORK: 
PARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

329     &     331     PEAUL     STKEET, 
FRANKLIN    SQUARE. 

1860. 


f>ntered,  accoramg  xo  acv  of  Congress,  in  tne  year  1840,  by 

Harper  &  Brothers, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


PUBLISHERS*     ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  great  experience  of  the  venerable  author  of 
these  addresses  as  an  instructor  and  guardian  of 
youth,  gives  a  value  to  his  counsels  which  can  be 
best  appreciated  by  those  whose  happiness  it  has 
been  to  be  trained  to  knowledge  and  virtue  under 
his  paternal  guidance  and  care.  To  those,  and 
the  number  is  not  small,  who  have  gone  forth 
from  the  halls  of  Union  to  honour  their  alma  mater 
by  their  conduct  in  life,  this  volume  must  be  pecu- 
liarly acceptable.  Nor  will  the  discourses  it  con- 
tains be  read  with  scarcely  less  interest  by  others ; 
being  replete  with  sound  moral  and  religious  int 
struction,  and  written  with  all  the  originality,  ear- 
nestness, and  eloquence  so  characteristic  of  their 
able  and  excellent  author.  By  young  men,  espe- 
cially, they  may  b^  made  of  invaluable  use,  in  di- 
recting them  to  the  adoption  of  such  principles  as 


vi  publishers'  advertisement. 

will  lead  to  prosperity  and  happiness  in  this  world, 
to  the  favour  of  God,  and  the  assurance  of  a  bet- 
ter inheritance  in  the  world  to  come, 

A  few  of  the  discourses  in  the  series,  although 
delivered  on  special  occasions,  and  differing  from 
the  others  in  their  leading  design,  will  be  found 
full  of  important  information  and  the  most  striking 
views,  in  relation  to  subjects  deeply  interesting  to 
every  Christian  mind.  The  publishers  would  also 
state,  that,  by  permission  of  the  author,  a  brief 
table  of  contents  has  been  prefixed  to  each  dis« 
course  for  the  convenience  of  the  reader. 

H.  &  B. 

New- York,  October,  1840 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

Sangtfine  Anticipations  of  the  Young.— Education  should  foe 
the  Business  of  Life. — Duty  of  controlling  and  subjugating 
the  Passions. — Of  cultivating  and  cherishing  the  Sympathies 
of  our  Nature. — Of  practising  Justice,  and  adhering  scrupu 
lously  to  Truth. — Religion  inseparable  from  our  Nature.— 
Christianity :  its  Character,  Effects,  Objects,  Encourage- 
ments, and  Rewards Page  13 

II. 

Nature  of  Man  threefold  :  Sensitive,  Intellectual,  and  Moral. — 
Pleasures  of  Sense :  lawful  and  innocent  in  themselves,  and 
forbidden  and  pernicious  only  when  sinfully  and  excessively 
indulged. — Intellectual  Pleasures :  their  elevated,  refined,  and 
durable  Character. — Man's  Moral  Nature,  and  the  Responsi- 
bilities derived  from  it. — Virtue  alone  leads  to  Happiness. — 
The  duty  of  judging  charitably  of  others  :  of  avoiding  Slan- 
den—Claims  of  Parents  upon  their  Children    .        .        .    26 

III. 

rhe  Young  require  to  be  specially  cautioned  against  the  pre- 
dominant Vices  of  the  Day.— Spirit  of  mutual  Injury,  Re- 
crimination, and  Revenge,  characteristic  of  the  Times. — Def 
inition  of  Revenge,  and  its  wicked  and  odious  Character  de- 
scribed.—Private  Revenge  forbidden  by  the  Divine  Law,  and 
Vengeance  declared  to  belong  to  God  alone. — Under  what  cir- 
cumstances, and  how  far  we  may  resist  personal  Injuries. — 
False  and  true  Honour. — The  Practice  of  Duelling,  its  sinful- 
ness and  awful  consequences. — Christian  Treatment  of  Ene- 
mies.— An  arrogant,  ambitious,  and  revengeful  Disposition  in 
the  last  degree  hateful  in  a  Christian  Minister.— The  Char- 
acter of  the  Saviour,  his  Precepts,  and  perfect  Example, 
teach  us  how  we  should  at  all  times  act  under  Injuries  .    43 

IV. 

Two  opposite  Systems  offered  to  our  Acceptance,  the  one  found- 
ed on  Human  Reason^  the  other  on  Divine  Revelation. — Man, 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

by  his  own  Wisdom,  never  has,  nor  ever  can  have  a  true  and 
proper  Conception  of  God. — Contradictory,  false,  and  unwor- 
thy Notions  entertained  by  the  wisest  of  the  Ancients  in  re- 
gard to  the  Nature  and  Attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being,  their 
confused  and  erroneous  Ideas  as  to  Virtue  and  Vice,  and  the 
gross  Immorality  of  their  Lives. — The  Appearance  of  Chris- 
tianity in  the  World  dispelled  the  Darkness  and  Delusion  that 
had  before  universally  prevailed,  and  brought  in  a  new  Era 
of  Light,  and  Hope,  and  of  pure  and  perfect  Morals. — The 
Simplicity  and  Purity  of  the  Christian  System  soon  corrupted 
by  being  incorporated  with  the  Errors  of  the  ancient  Philos- 
ophy. —  Modern  Infidelity,  and  the  pernicious  and  absurd 
Doctrines  on  which  it  is  founded. — Skeptical  System  of  Hume 
(see  Note). — Infidelity  and  Christianity,  in  their  Character, 
Moral  Effects,  and  ultimate  Results,  contrasted. — The  Chris- 
tian alone  can  have  Hope  in  Death,  and  Assurance  of  a  blessed 
ImmortaUty Page  64 


Painful  Feelings  of  Teachers  in  parting  from  their  Pupils. — 
Responsibility  of  Teachers. — Constant  Succession  of  Actors 
on  the  Stage  of  Life. — Motives  held  out  to  the  Young  to  act 
their  part  well. — Discouragements  to  an  honourable  Ambition 
removed. — The  Examples  of  Howard,  Sharpe,  Clarkson,  and 
Lancaster. — A  mixture  of  virtuous  and  vicious  Characters  in 
the  World.— The  Practice  of  Virtue,  even  as  it  regards  this 
Life,  to  be  preferred. — But  th'ere  is  a  God  :  Man  is  accountable 
and  immortal,  and  should  act  with  constant  reference  to  these 
great  Truths. — Concluding  Exhortation  .        .        .        .78 

VI. 

The  Moral,  no  less  than  the  Physical  World,  subject  to  convul- 
sions and  changes,— The  present  an  age  of  Political  Revolu- 
tions.— Our  Country  involved  in  the  contentions  of  Nations. 
— Importance  of  the  Era  in  which  we  live.— The  hopes  of 
Society  in  the  rising  Generation.— Knowledge  is  Power.— Tht 
Savage  and  the  civilized  Man  compared.— The  dominion  of 
Mind,  as  exhibited  in  the  general  and  statesman— in  the  ex- 
ample of  ancient  Athens. — Encouragements  to  Perseverance 
in  the  pursuit  of  Intellectual  Superiority. — Examples  of  Hch 
mer  and  Demosthenes. — Power  beneficent  only  when  associ- 
ated with  Goodness. — Human  Endowments  should  be  con- 
secrated to  Religious  and  Moral  ends. — Nature  of  Civil  Gov- 
ernment, and  duty  of  Obedience  to  it,  —Exhortation  to  de- 


CONTENTS.  IX 

fend  the  free  Institutions  of  our  Country. — ^Whatever  Triali 
befall  the  Christian  here,  his  Reward  is  sure  hereafter 

Page  97 

VII. 

hove  of  Distinction. — Honour  and  Religion,  though  distinct, 
are  allied  to  each  other. — Modern  definition  of  the  Law  of 
Honour. — Fallacies  of  this  Definition  exposed. — A  sense  of 
Honour  in  different  degrees  operative  on  all  Minds  except  the 
most  debased. — The  offices  of  this  Feeling  and  of  Conscience 
contrasted. — Purpose  for  which  the  Sense  of  Honour  was  im- 
planted in  the  human  breast. — Its  Perversion  an  abuse. — Dig- 
nity of  Man,  and  the  lofty  distinction  conferred  on  him  by  his 
Maker.— His  Fall  and  Recovery.— His  Rank,  Capacities,  Pa- 
rentage, and  Destination,  all  call  upon  him  to  persevere  in  a 
steady  Course  of  honourable  Action,  in  his  Amusements,  his 
Pleasures,  and  his  Occupations. — Dignity  of  the  good  Man  in 
his  last  moments. — All  false  and  deceptive  appeai-ances  will 
be  exposed  in  a  future  state ;  and  those  only  who  are  truly 
and  sincerely  good  will  be  accounted  worthy  of  acceptance 
and  honour Ill 

nil. 

Public  Opinion  as  opposed  to  the  Moral  Law.  —  Games  of 
Chance.— Objectionable  because  they  unprofitably  consume 
Time. — Because  they  lead  to  a  misapplication  of  Property. — 
Because  they  impart  no  Expansion  or  Vigour  to  the  Mind. — 
Because  their  Influence  on  the  Affections  and  Passions  is  del- 
eterious.— Dreadful  Effect  of  Gaming  on  Morals  and  on  the 
Sympathies  of  our  Nature. — It  leads  to  Debauchery,  to  Ava 
rice,  to  Intemperance. — The  finished  Gambler  has  no  Heart. 
— Example  of  Madame  du  DefFand. — Brutalized  and  hopeless 
State  of  the  Gambler  and  Drunkard. — Warning  to  Youth  to 
avoid  the  Temptations  which  lead  to  these  soul-destroying 
Vices 128 


IX. 

Skeptical  Notions  in  regard  to  the  Providence  of  God,  and  his  re- 
tributive Justice.— The  condition  of  the  Virtuous  and  Vicious  in 
this  World  aflfords  no  argument  against  the  position  that  God 
will  reward  the  one  and  punish  the  other.— A  future  State  of 
lExistence  is  certain,  and  must  be  taken  into  account  in  judging 
of  the  Character  and  Designs  of  God.— The  inward  Peace  en- 
joyed by  the  Virtuous,  and  the  Trouble  and  Remorse  experi- 


CONTENTS. 


enced  by  the  Vicious,  indications  of  God's  Moral  Govern 
ment. — The  Trials  of  the  Righteous  intended  to  exalt  and  pu- 
rify their  Character. — Consolations  of  the  Righteous  in  the 
view  of  Death,  and  the  Happiness  that  awaits  them  in  a  fu- 
ture State  of  Being Page  147 


Instability  of  all  earthly  Things. — Motives  to  early  Piety.— 
Filial  Love  and  Gratitude. — Parental  Affection. — Anxiety  of 
Parents  to  promote  the  Happiness  of  their  Children.— Chris, 
tian  Parents. — Instructions  of  Solomon. — Early  Piety  inter- 
esting in  itself. — Leads  to  Happiness. — Joy  of  Christian  Pa- 
rents in  pious  Children,  in  Life  and  in  Death.— Example  of  a 
pious  Child. — The  Good  on  Earth  and  the  Angels  in  Heaven 
rejoice  over  Souls  converted  from  Sin  to  Righteousness. — 
Union  of  Parents  and  Children  in  Heaven       .        .        .  159 

XL 

Effects  of  the  Apostacy.— Man  vainly  seeks  for  Happiness  in 
Riches  — in  Power — in  Wisdom. — Man's  boasted  Wisdom 
considered— ill  the  Philosophy  of  Mind — in  the  Philosophy  of 
Matter.—  Chymistry.— The  Microscope.— Astronomy. — The 
Telescope. — The  Fixed  Stars. — True  Wisdom  consists  in  the 
Knowledge  of  God.— Pagan  and  Christian  Theology,  in  their 
Character  and  Effects,  compared. — The  Bible  the  source  of 
the  most  precious  Knowledge.— To  be  truly  Wise  is  to  under- 
stand the  great  Truths  which  it  reveals,  and  comply  with  ita 
Requirements 179 

XII. 

Absolute  Independence  predicable  only  of  God. — The  Relations 
between  Parents  and  Children. — A  foolish  Son  a  Grief  to  his 
Father.— Sin  the  greatest  of  all  Folly.— The  Sinner's  Charac- 
ter and  Course  described. — The  Effects  of  Sin.— Children 
growing  up  in  Sin.— The  Prodigal  Son.— The  Anguish  occa- 
sioned to  Parents  by  dissolute  Children. — Their  Affliction  in 
leaving  such  Children  behind  them.— Their  Hopelessness 
in  the  Death  of  such  Children.— David  and  Absalom. — The 
Petition  of  Dives.— Future  Stat  5  of  the  Wicked.— Close  oi 
the  Argument 20« 


CONTENTS.  xi 


XIII. 

VII  wish  to  Die  with  the  Assurance  of  Happiness  hereafter.— 
As  Youth  is  the  most  important,  it  is  also  the  most  danger- 
ous Period  of  Life.— Rehgion  only  can  guard  against  the 
Temptations  incident  to  this  Period.— The  Example  of  Jo- 
siah.— All  Men  mean  to  repent  of  their  Sins.— Danger  of 
delaying  Repentance— from  the  uncertainty  of  Life  and  of 
the  continued  possession  of  Reason— from  the  hardening  ef- 
fects of  Perseverance  in  Sin— from  being  left  to  a  Reprobate 
Mmd Page  226 

XIY. 

Character  and  Design  of  the  Bible  Society.— Christian  Com- 
munities do  not  sufficiently  appreciate  their  indebtedness  to 
the  Bible. — Nearly  all  that  is  pure  in  Morals  or  kmdly  in  Feel- 
ing derived  from  it.— In  the  first  Ages  of  the  World,  God's 
Communications  to  Man  were  direct,  and  were  perpetuated 
and  extended  by  Tradition. — The  early  Longevity  of  Mankind 
favourable  to  this. — The  Traditions  and  Institutions  of  heathen 
Nations  coincide  with  and  confirm  the  sacred  Records  of  the 
Jews. — Divine  Revelation  and  the  Speculations  of  human 
Reason,  as  exhibited  in  their  different  Effects. — Dreadful 
Moral  Corruption  of  the  heathen  World. — Influence  of  Chris- 
tianity in  ameliorating  the  Condition  and  Morals  of  Mankind. 
— Unspeakable  importance  of  Divine  Revelation  in  regard  to 
a  future  State. — The  duty  of  Christians  to  extend  it  to  all 
Nations 240 

XV. 

Difference  in  the  Intellectual  and  Moral  Condition  of  Individ- 
uals and  Nations— Ignorance  and  Knowledge  the  principal 
Causes  of  this  Difference. — Advantages  of  Associated  Efforts 
in  promoting  Science. — Intelligence  and  Happiness  capable 
of  being  vastly  extended. — First  crude  Discoveries  in  Sci- 
ence contrasted  with  the  Progress  since  made. — Present  State 
and  future  Prospects  of  Scientific  Research. — Chymistry. — 
Astronomy.— Mineralogy  and  Botany. — Meteorology.— Elec- 
tricity. —  Medicine.  —  Political  Science.  —  Popular  Govern- 
ments.—The  United  States.— Anomaly  of  domestic  Slavery, 
in  its  Origin,  &c.,  considered.— Ameliorations  in  our  Institu- 
tions and  Laws  in  regard  to  Debtors— to  Criminals.— Reli- 
gious Freedom.— Multiplicity  of  Religious  Sects  not  incom- 
patible with  Christian  Union.— Science  and  Religion  recipro- 
cally aid  each  other,  and  should  never  be  disunited         .  275 


ADDRESSES. 


DELIVERED    MAY    1,    1805. 

[Sanguine  Anticipations  of  the  Young. — Education  should  be 
the  Business  of  Life. — Duty  of  controlling  and  subjugating 
the  Passions.— Of  cultivating  and  cherishing  the  Sympathies 
of  our  Nature. — Of  practising  Justice,  and  adhering  scrupu- 
lously to  Truth. — Rehgion  inseparable  from  our  Nature. — 
Christianity:  its  Character,  Effects,  Objects,  Encourage- 
ments, and  Rewards.] 

Young  gentlemen,  this  day  closes  your  collegiate 
life.  You  have  continued  the  term  and  completed 
the  course  of  studies  prescribed  in  this  institution. 
You  have  received  its  honours,  and  are  now  to  go 
forth  adventurers — unsuspecting,  perhaps,  and  cer- 
tainly inexperienced — into  a  fascinating  but  illusive 
world :  a  world  where  honour  flaunts  in  fictitious 
trappings  ;  where  wealth  displays  imposing  charms, 
and  pleasure  spreads  her  impoisoned  banquets. 
And  that,  too,  at  a  period  when  the  passions  are  most 
ungovernable,  when  the  fancy  is  most  vivid,  when 
the  blood  flows  rapidly  through  the  veins,  and  the 
pulse  of  life  beats  high.  Already  does  the  opening 
scene  brighten  as  you  approach  it ;  and  happiness, 
smiling  but  deceitful,  passes  before  your  eyes  and 
beckons  you  to  her  embrace. 

Called  to  address  you  at  this  affecting  crisis,  and 


14  KNOWLEDGE. 

for  the  last  time,  had  I,  like  the  patriarch  of  the  East, 
a  blessing  at  my  disposal,  how  gladly  should  I  be- 
stow it.  But  I  have  not ;  and  can  therefore  only 
add  to  the  solicitude  which  I  feel,  my  counsel  and 
my  prayers. 

Permit  me  to  advise  you,  then,  young  gentlemen, 
when  you  leave  this  seminary,  and  even  after  you 
shall  have  chosen  a  profession  and  entered  on  the 
business  of  life,  still  to  consider  yourselves  only 
learners.  Your  acquirements  here,  though  respect- 
able, are  the  rudiments  merely  of  an  education 
which  must  be  hereafter  pursued  and  completed. 
In  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  you  are  never  to  be 
stationary,  but  always  progressive.  Nature  has  no- 
where said  to  man,  pressing  forward  in  the  career 
of  intellectual  glory,  "  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  but 
no  farther."  Under  God,  therefore,  it  depends  upon 
yourselves  to  say  how  great,  how  wise,  how  useful 
you  will  be.  Men  of  moderate  talents,  by  a  course 
of  patient  application,  have  often  risen  to  the  highest 
eminence,  and,  standing  far  above  where  the  mo- 
mentary sallies  of  uncultivated  genius  ever  reach, 
have  plucked  from  the  lofty  cliff  the  deathless  lau- 
rel. Indeed,  to  the  stature  of  the  mind  no  boundary 
is  set.  Your  bodies,  originally  from  the  earth,  soon 
reach  their  greatest  elevation,  and  bend  downward 
again  towards  that  earth  out  of  which  they  were 
taken.  But  the  inner  man,  that  sublime,  that  ra- 
tional, that  immortal  inhabitant  which  pervades  your 
bosoms,  if  sedulously  fostered,  will  expand  and  ele- 
vate itself,  till,  touching  the  earth,  it  can  look  above 
the  clouds  and  reach  beyond  the  stars. 


THE    PASSIONS.  15 

Go,  then,  and,  emulous  to  excel  in  whatever  is 
splendid,  magnanimous,  and  great,  with  Newton, 
span  the  heavens,  and  number  and  measure  the  orbs 
which  decorate  them  ;  with  Locke,  analyze  the  hu- 
man mind  ;  with  Boyle,  examine  the  regions  of  or- 
ganic nature :  in  one  word,  go,  and  with  the  great, 
the  wise,  and  the  good  of  all  nations  and  all  ages, 
ponder  the  mysteries  of  Infinite  Wisdom,  and  trace 
the  Everlasting  in  his  word  and  in  his  works.  A 
wide  and  unbounded  prospect  spreads  itself  before 
you,  in  every  point  of  which  Divinity  shines  con- 
spicuous ;  and  on  whichever  side  you  turn  your  en- 
raptured eyes,  surrounded  with  uncreated  majesty, 
and  seen  in  the  light  of  his  own  glory,  God  appears. 
He  leads  the  way  before  you,  and  sheds  radiance 
on  his  path,  that  you  may  follow  him. 

Control  and  subjugate  your  passions, — Origin- 
ally order  pervaded  human  nature.  The  bosom  of 
man  was  calm,  his  countenance  serene.  Reason 
sat  enthroned  in  his  heart,  and  to  her  control  the 
passions  were  subjected.  But  the  days  of  inno- 
cence are  past,  and  with  them  has  also  passed  the 
reign  of  reason.  Phrensy  ensues.  He  who  was 
once  calm  and  rational  is  now  blind  and  impetuous. 
A  resistless  influence  impels  him.  Consequences 
are  disregarded,  and,  madly  pressing  forward  to  the 
object  of  desire,  he  exclaims,  "  My  honour,  my 
property,  my  pleasure  ;"  but  is  never  heard  to  say, 
♦'  My  religion,  my  duty,  my  salvation.'"* 

While  reason  maintained  her  empire,  the  passions 
were  a  genial  flame,  imparting  warmth  to  the  sys- 
♦  See  Saurir  on  the  Passions. 


16  THE   SYMPATHIES. 

tern,  and  gently  accelerating  the  circulation  of  the 
blood.  But,  that  empire  subverted,  they  kindle  into 
a  Vesuvius,  burning  to  its  centre,  and  pouring  out 
on  every  side  its  desolating  lava.  The  passions^ 
said  an  inspired  apostle,  war  against  the  soul ;  and 
the  same  apostle  who  said  this  commands  you  to 
overcome  them. 

Cultivate  and  cherish  the  sympathies  of  your 
nature. — These,  though  blighted  by  the  apostacy, 
still  retain  the  tints  of  faded  loveliness ;  and  when 
sanctified  in  the  heart  and  unfolded  in  the  life  even 
of  fallen  man,  they  possess  a  resistless  charm,  and 
furnish  some  faint  idea  of  what  he  must  have  been 
m  a  state  of  innocence. 

For  the  exercise  of  these  sympathies  in  all  the 
paths  of  life,  you  will  meet  with  pitiable  objects, 
who  will  present  their  miseries  to  your  eye,  and  ad- 
dress the  moving  eloquence  of  sorrow  to  your  heart. 
Always  listen  to  this  eloquence ;  always  pity  this 
misery,  and,  if  possible,  relieve  it.  Yes,  young  gen- 
tlemen, whatever  seas  you  may  navigate,  or  to  what- 
ever part  of  the  habitable  world  you  may  travel,  car- 
ry with  you  your  humanity.  Even  there  divide  your 
morsel  with  the  destitute ;  advocate  the  cause  of 
the  oppressed ;  to  the  fatherless  be  a  father,  and 
cover  the  shivering  limbs  of  the  naked  with  your 
mantle.  Even  there  sooth  the  disconsolate,  sym- 
pathize with  the  mourner,  brighten  the  countenance 
bedimmed  with  sorrow,  and,  like  the  God  of  mercy, 
shed  happiness  around  you,  and  banish  misery  be- 
fore you. 

In   all  your  intercourse   ivith  rnanhind,  rigidly 


TRUTH   AND    JUSTICE.  17 

practise  justice  and  scrupulously  adhere  to  truth : 
other  duties  vary  with  varying  circumstances.  What 
would  be  Hberality  in  one  man  would  be  parsimony 
in  another :  what  would  be  valour  on  one  occasion 
would  be  temerity  on  another  ;  but  truth  and  justice 
are  immutable  and  eternal  principles — always  sa- 
cred and  always  applicable.  In  no  circumstances, 
however  urgent,  no  crisis,  however  awful,  can  there 
be  an  aberration  from  the  one,  or  a  dereliction  of 
the  other,  without  sin.  With  respect  to  everything 
else,  be  accommodating ;  but  here,  be  unyielding 
and  invincible.  Rather  carry  your  integrity  to  the 
dungeon  or  the  scaffold  than  receive  in  exchange  for 
it  liberty  and  life.  Should  you  ever  be  called  upon 
to  make  your  election  between  these  extremes,  do 
not  hesitate.  It  is  better  prematurely  to  be  sent  to 
heaven  in  honour,  than,  having  lingered  on  the  earth, 
at  last  to  sink  to  hell  in  infamy.  In  every  situa- 
tion, a  dishonest  man  is  detestable,  and  a  liar  is  still 
more  so. 

I  have  often,  young  gentlemen,  recommended  to 
you  a  sacred  adherence  to  truth.  I  would  on  this 
occasion  repeat  the  recommendation,  that  I  may  fix 
it  the  more  indehbly  on  your  hearts.  Believe  me 
when  I  tell  you,  that  on  this  article  you  can  never 
be  too  scrupulous. 

Truth  is  one  of  the  fairest  attributes  of  the  Deity  > 
It  is  the  boundary  which  separates  vice  from  virtue  ; 
the  line  which  divides  heaven  from  hell.  It  is  the 
chain  which  binds  the  man  of  integrity  to  the  throne 
of  Grod  ;  and,  like  the  God  to  whose  throne  it  binds 
bim,  till  this  chain  is  dissolved  his  word  may  be  re- 


18  RELIGION. 

lied  on.  Suspended  on  this,  your  property,  your 
reputation,  your  life  are  safe.  But  against  the  mal- 
ice of  a  liar  there  is  no  security.  He  can  be  bound 
by  nothing.  His  soul  is  already  repulsed  to  an  im- 
measurable distance  from  that  Divinity,  a  sense  of 
whose  presence  is  the  security  of  virtue.  He  has 
sundered  the  last  of  those  moral  ligaments  which 
bind  a  mortal  to  his  duty.  And,  having  done  so 
through  the  extended  region  of  fraud  and  falsehood, 
without  a  bond  to  check  or  a  limit  to  confine  him, 
he  ranges,  the  dreaded  enemy  of  innocence — whose 
lips  pollute  even  truth  itself  as  it  passes  through 
them,  and  whose  breath  blasts,  and  soils,  and  poi- 
sons as  it  touches. 

Finally,  cherish  and  practise  religion, — Man  has 
been  called,  in  distinction  from  the  inferior  orders 
of  creation,  a  religious  being,  and  justly  so  called. 
For,  though  his  hopes  and  fears  may  be  repressed, 
and  the  moral  feelings  of  his  heart  stifled  for  a  sea- 
son, nature,  like  a  torrent  which  has  been  obstructed, 
will  break  forth  and  sweep  away  those  frail  barriers 
which  skepticism  may  have  erected  to  divert  its 
course. 

There  is  something  so  repulsive  in  naked  infidel- 
ity, that  the  mind  approaches  it  with  reluctance, 
shrinks  back  from  it  with  horror,  and  is  never  set- 
tled till  it  rests  on  positive  religion. 

I  am  aware  that  that  spirit  of  devotion,  that  sense 
of  guilt  and  dread  of  punishment,  which  pervade 
the  human  mind,  have  been  attributed  to  the  force 
of  habit  or  the  influence  of  superstition.  Let  the 
appeal  be  made  to  human  nature.     To  the  position 


RELIGION.  19 

of  irreligionists  on  this  article,  human  nati  re  itself 
furnishes  the  most  satisfactory  refutation.  ReHgion 
is  a  first  principle  of  man.  It  shoots  up  from  the 
very  seat  of  life  ;  it  cleaves  to  the  human  constitu- 
tion by  a  thousand  ligaments  ;  it  entwines  around 
human  nature,  and  sends  to  the  very  bottom  of  the 
heart  its  penetrating  tendrils.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
be  exterminated.  The  experiment  has  again  and 
again  been  tried,  and  the  result  has  always  proved 
worthy  of  the  rash  attempt. 

Young  as  you  are,  you  have  witnessed,  with  a 
view  to  this  extermination,  the  most  desperate  ef- 
forts. But  just  now  a  formidable  host  of  infuriate 
infidels  were  assembled.  You  heard  them  openly 
abjure  their  God.  You  saw  them  wreaking  their 
vengeance  on  rehgion.  For  a  season  they  triumph- 
ed. Before  them  every  sacred  institution  disap- 
peared, every  consecrated  monument  fell  to  dust. 
The  fervours  of  nature  were  extinguished,  and  the 
lip  of  devotion  palsied  by  their  approach.  With 
one  hand  they  seized  the  thunders  of  the  heavens, 
and  with  the  other  smote  His  throne  who  inhabits 
them.  It  seemed  to  crumble  at  the  stroke.  Mount- 
ing these  fancied  ruins.  Blasphemy  waved  its  ter- 
rific sceptre,  and,  impiously  looking  up  to  those  eter- 
nal heights  where  the  Deity  resides,  exclaimed, 
"  Victory !" 

Where  now  are  those  dreaded  enemies  of  our 
religion?  They  have  vanished  from  the  sight. 
They  were,  but  are  seen  no  more.  Nor  have  the 
consequences  of  their  exertions  been  more  abiding. 
A.  great  nation,  indeed,  delivered  from  the  restraints 


20  RELIGION. 

of  moral  obligation,  and  enfranchised  with  all  the 
liberties  of  infidelity,  were  proclaimed  free.  But 
have  they  continued  so  ?  No :  their  minds  pres- 
ently recoiled  from  the  dismal  waste  which  skepti- 
cism had  opened  before  them,  and  the  cheerless 
darkness  it  had  spread  around  them.  They  sud- 
denly arrested  their  steps  ;  they  retraced,  in  sadness 
and  sorrow,  the  paths  which  they  had  trodden ;  they 
consecrated  again  the  temples  they  had  defiled ; 
they  rebuilt  the  altars  they  had  demolished  ;  they 
sighed  for  the  return  of  that  religion  they  had  ban- 
ished, and  spontaneously  promised  submission  to  its 
reign. 

What  are  we  to  infer  from  this  ?  That  religion 
is  congenial  to  human  nature  ;  that  it  is  inseparable 
from  it.  A  nation  may  be  seduced  into  skepticism, 
but  it  cannot  be  continued  in  it.  Why,  I  would 
ask,  has  religion  existed  in  the  world  in  ages  which 
are  past  1  why  does  it  exist  now  1  why  will  it  exist 
in  ages  to  come  ?  Is  it  because  kings  have  ordain- 
ed and  priests  defended  it  1  No :  but  because 
God  formed  man  to  be  religious.  Its  great  and 
eternal  principles  are  inscribed  on  his  heart ;  they 
are  inscribed  in  characters  which  are  indelible  ;  nor 
can  the  violence  of  infidelity  blot  them  out.  Ob- 
scured indeed  they  may  be  by  the  influence  of  sin, 
and  remain  not  legible  during  the  rage  of  passion. 
But  a  calm  ensues :  the  calm  of  reason  or  the 
night  of  adversity,  from  the  midst  of  whose  darkness 
a  light  proceeds,  which  renders  the  original  inscrip- 
tion visible.  Man  now  turns  his  eye  inward  upon 
himself.     He  reads  "  Responsibility  ;"  and,  as  he 


RELIGION.  21 

reads,  he  feels  a  sense  of  sin  and  dread  of  pun- 
ishment. He  now  pays,  from  necessity,  homage  to 
rehgion — a  homage  which  cannot  be  withheld  :  it  is 
the  homage  of  his  nature.  We  have  now  traced 
the  effect  to  its  cause,  and  referred  this  abiding  trait 
in  the  human  character  to  its  principle. 

The  question  is  not,  then,  whether  you  will  em- 
brace religion — religion  you  must  embrace  —  but 
whether  you  will  embrace  revealed  religion,  or  that 
of  erring  and  blind  philosophy.  And,  with  respect 
to  this  question,  can  you  hesitate  ? 

The  former  has  infinitely  more  to  recommend  it 
than  the  latter.  It  originated  in  heaven.  It  is 
founded,  not  on  conjecture,  but  on  fact.  Divinity 
manifested  itself  in  the  person,  and  shone  in  the  life 
of  its  Author.  True,  he  appeared  in  great  humility ; 
but  though  the  humility  in  which  he  appeared  had 
been  greater  than  it  was,  either  the  sublimity  of  his 
doctrines  or  the  splendour  of  his  actions  had  been 
sufficient  to  evince  his  Messiahship,  and  prove  that 
he  was  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  He  spoke  as 
man  never  spoke  !  Whence  did  he  derive  wisdom 
so  transcendant  ?  From  reason  1  No  :  reason 
could  not  give  it,  for  it  had  it  not  to  give.  What 
reason  could  never  teach,  the  gospel  teaches — that 
in  the  vast  and  perfect  government  of  the  universe, 
vicarious  sufferings  can  be  accepted ;  and  that  the 
dread  Sovereign  who  administers  that  government 
is  gracious  as  well  as  jus.t.  Nor  does  it  rest  in  dec- 
laration merely.  It  exhibits  before  our  eyes  the 
altar  and  the  victim — the  Lamb  of  God,  which  ta- 
keth  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 


22  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  introduction  of  Christianity  was  called  the 
coming  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  No  terms 
could  have  been  more  appropriate ;  for  through  it 
man  shared  the  mercy,  and  from  it  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  heavens.  The  moral  gloom  which  shrouded 
the  nations  receded  before  it.  The  temples  of  su- 
perstition and  of  cruelty,  consecrated  by  its  entrance, 
became  the  asylums  of  the  wretched,  and  resounded 
with  their  anthems  of  grace. 

Most  benign  has  been  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  and  were  it  cordially  received  and  univer- 
sally submitted  to,  war  would  cease,  injustice  be 
banished,  and  primeval  happiness  revisit  the  earth. 
Every  inhabitant,  pleased  with  his  situation,  resigned 
to  his  lot,  and  full  of  the  hopes  of  heaven,  would 
pass  agreeably  through  life,  and  meet  death  without 
a  sigh. 

Is  the  morality  of  the  gospel  pre-eminently  ex- 
cellent ?  So  is  its  object  pre-eminently  glorious. 
Philosophy  confines  its  views  to  this  world  princi- 
pally. It  endeavours  to  satisfy  man  with  the  grov- 
elling joys  of  earth,  till  he  returns  to  that  dust  out 
of  which  he  was  taken.  Christianity  takes  a  nobler 
flight.  Her  course  is  directed  towards  immortality. 
Thither  she  conducts  her  votary,  and  never  forsakes 
him  till,  having  introduced  him  into  the  society  of 
angels,  she  fixes  his  eternal  residence  among  the 
spirits  of  the  just. 

Philosophy  can  only  heave  a  sigh,  a  longing  sigh, 
after  immortality.  Eternity  is  to  her  an  unknown 
vast,  over  which  she  soars  on  conjecture's  trembling 
wing.     Above,  beneath,  around,  is  an  unfathomable 


CHRISTIANITY.  23 

void  ;  and  doubt,  uncertainty,  or  despair  is  the  re- 
sult of  all  her  inquiries. 

Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  having  furnished 
all  necessary  information  concerning  life,  with  firm 
and  undaunted  step  crosses  death's  narrow  isthmus, 
and  boldly  launches  forth  into  that  dread  futurity 
which  borders  on  it.  Her  path  is  marked  with 
glory.  The  once  dark,  dreary  region  brightens 
as  she  approaches  it,  and  benignly  smiles  as  she 
passes  over  it.  Faith  follows  where  she  advances  ; 
till,  reaching  the  summit  of  everlasting  hills,  an  un- 
known scene,  in  endless  varieties  of  loveUness  and 
beauty,  presents  itself,  over  which  the  ravished  eye 
wanders,  without  a  cloud  to  dim  or  a  limit  to  ob- 
struct its  sight.  In  the  midst  of  this  scene,  render- 
ed luminous  by  the  glory  which  covers  it,  the  city, 
the  palace,  the  throne  of  God  appears.  Trees  of 
life  surround  it ;  rivers  of  salvation  issue  from  be- 
neath it.  Before  it,  angels  touch  their  harps  of 
living  melody,  and  saints,  in  sweet  response,  breathe 
forth  their  grateful  songs.  The  redeemed  of  the 
Lord  who  remain  upon  the  earth,  catch  the  distant 
sound  and  feel  a  sudden  rapture.  'Tis  the  voice 
of  departed  friendship — friendship,  the  loss  of  which 
they  mourn  upon  the  earth,  but  which  they  are  now 
assured  will  be  restored  in  the  heavens — from 
whence  a  voice  is  heard  to  say,  "  Fear  ye  not,  death 
cannot  injure  you  ;  the  grave  cannot  confine  you ; 
through  its  chill  mansion,  Grace  will  conduct  you 
up  to  glory.  We  wait  your  arrival :  haste,  there- 
fore, come  away."  All  this  Christianity  will  do  fot 
you.     It  will  do  more  than  this  :  it  consecrate?  the 


24  CHRISTIANITY. 

sepulchre,  into  which  your  bodies,  already  touched 
by  death,  will  presently  descend.  There,  moulder- 
ed into  dust,  your  flesh  shall  rest  in  hope.  Nor 
will  the  season  of  its  humiliation  last  for  ever. 
Christianity,  faithful  to  her  trust,  appears  for  its  re- 
demption. She  approaches,  and  stands  before  the 
tomb :  she  stretches  out  her  sceptre  and  smites  the 
sepulchre  ;  its  moss-grown  covering  rends  asunder ; 
she  cries  to  the  silent  inhabitants  within  it ;  her  en- 
ergizing voice  echoes  along  the  cold,  damp  vaults 
of  death,  renovating  skin  and  bones,  and  dust  and 
putrefaction.  Corruption  puts  on  incorruption,  and 
mortal  immortality.  Her  former  habitation,  thus  re- 
fined and  sublimated  by  the  resurrection,  the  exult- 
ing soul  re-enters,  and  thenceforth  the  measure  of 
her  joy  is  full. 

Here  thought  and  language  fail  me.  Inspiration 
itself  describes  the  glories  of  futurity  by  declaring 
them  indescribable.  Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  hath 
not  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive  the  things  which  are  prepared  for 
the  people  of  God.  What  ideas  are  these  ?  How 
must  the  soul  exult  at  the  prospect,  and  swell  with 
the  amazing  conception ! 

As  Christianity  exhibits  the  most  enrapturing  mo- 
tives to  the  practice  of  virtue,  so  it  urges  the  most 
tremendous  considerations  to  deter  from  vice.  She 
declares,  solemnly  and  irrevocably  declares,  "  That 
the  wages  of  sin  are  death."  And,  to  enforce  her 
declal-ation,  points  to  the  concluding  scene  of  na- 
ture— when,  amid  a  departing  heaven  and  a  dis- 
solving world,  the  Son  of  Man  shall  descend,  with 


THE   GOSPEL.  26 

the  voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God,  to 
be  glorified  in  his  saints  and  take  vengeance  on  his 
enemies  ! 

Such  is  the  gospel :  and  here  I  rest  my  observa- 
tions. At  this  affecting  crisis,  my  beloved  pupils, 
this  gospel  I  deliver  you.  It  is  the  most  invaluable 
gift ;  and  I  solemnly  adjure  you  to  preserve  it  in- 
violate for  ever.  To  whatever  part  of  God's  crea- 
tion you  may  wander,  carry  this  with  you.  Consult 
it  in  prosperity  ;  resort  to  it  in  trouble  ;  shield  your- 
selves with  it  in  danger,  and  rest  your  fainting  head 
on  it  in  death. 

Do  this  :  and,  though  the  world  be  convulsed 
around  you,  the  elements  dissolve,  and  the  heavens 
depart,  still  your  happiness  is  secure.  But  should 
you  ever,  in  an  hour  of  rashness,  be  tempted  to  cast 
it  from  you,  remember  that  with  it  you  cast  away 
salvation.  'Tis  the  last  hope  of  sinful,  dying  man. 
This  gone,  all  is  lost !  Immortality  is  lost,  and 
lost  also  is  the  soul,  which  might  otherwise  have  in- 
herited and  enjoyed  it.  Under  these  impressions, 
go  forth  to  the  world  :   and  may  God  go  with  you. 

Committing  you  to  his  care,  and  with  a  heart  full 
of  parental  solicitude  for  your  welfare,  I  bid  you  an 
affectionate  and  final  farewell. 
Q 


26  TEMPTATIONS    OF    THE    YOUNG- 


II. 

DELITERED   JULY    30,   1806. 

(^Nature  of  Man  threefold  :  Sensitive,  Intellectual,  and  Moral, 
— Pleasures  of  Sense  :  Lawful  and  Innocent  in  themselves, 
and  Forbidden  and  Pernicious  only  when  sinfully  and  ex- 
cessively indulged. — Intellectual  Pleasures  :  their  elevated, 
refined,  and  durable  Character. — Man's  Moral  Nature,  and 
the  Responsibilities  derived  from  it. — Virtue  alone  leads  to 
Happiness. — The  duty  of  judging  charitably  of  others  :  of 
avoiding  Slander. — Claims  of  Parents  upon  their  Children.] 

Young  gentlemen,  most  affecting  to  a  parent  is 
the  moment  when  his  children,  commencing  masters 
of  their  fortune,  leave  their  paternal  home  and  enter 
on  the  world.  The  disasters  which  may  dissipate 
their  property,  the  temptations  which  may  corrupt 
their  virtue,  and  the  maladies  which  may  assail  their 
persons,  present  themselves  in  clusters  to  his  eye, 
and  crowd  upon  his  mind.  Were  it  possible,  gladly 
v/ould  he  accompany,  counsel,  and  direct  them  on 
their  way.  But  it  is  not  possible.  He  can,  there- 
fore, only  vent  his  full  heart  in  benedictions,  and, 
looking  up  to  God,  commit  the  inexperienced  adven- 
turers to  his  care. 

Parting  with  a  class  endeared  to  me  by  a  course 
of  the  most  filial  and  affectionate  conduct,  my  sit- 
uation and  my  feelings  resemble  those  of  a  parent 
parting  with  his  children. 

Dear  pupils,  thus  far  your  instructers  have  ac- 
companied and  directed  you  in  your  studies  and 
pursuits.     But  the  time  of  separation  has  arrived : 


THREEFOLD    NATURE    OF    MAN.  27 

we  have  reached  the  point  where  our  ways  divide. 
Before  we  part,  indulge  a  word  of  counsel,  the  last 
to  be  communicated  by  him  who  now  addresses 
you. 

The  end  that  each  of  you  has  in  view  is  happi- 
ness. To  be  informed  beforehand  of  the  course 
that  will  conduct  to  it,  must  be  infinitely  important : 
because,  should  you  mistake  the  means,  with  how- 
ever much  ardour  and  constancy  you  may  pursue  the 
end,  your  efforts  will  be  vain,  and  your  future  expe- 
rience prove  but  the  sad  disappointment  of  your 
present  hopes.  How,  then,  may  success  be  ensured  ? 
what  manner  of  life  will  conduct  to  happiness  ?  To 
answer  this  interrogation,  the  character  of  man  must 
be  developed,  his  constitution  analyzed,  his  capaci- 
ties of  enjoyment  ascertained,  and  the  correspond- 
encies between  those  capacities  and  their  resp^c- 
ive  objects  unfolded. 

What,  then,  is  man  ?  Man  is  a  being  in  whom  are 
mysteriously  combined  a  sensitive,  an  intellectuaU 
and  a  moral  nature :  each  of  which  should  be  kept 
in  view  in  the  present  inquiry,  and  the  comparative 
claims  of  each  considered  in  making  a  decision. 

You  have  been  told  by  an  author,  more  esteemed 
for  the  benevolence  of  his  heart  than  the  profound- 
ness of  his  doctrines,  "  that  human  happiness  does 
not  consist  in  the  pleasures  of  sense,  in  whatever 
variety  or  profusion  they  may  be  enjoyed."  It  is 
true  that  human  happiness  does  not  consist,  exclu- 
sively or  principally  in  these.  The  senses,  how- 
ever, are  a  real  source  of  enjoyment ;  nor  would 
I  wish  you  either  to  despise  or  undervalue  them. 


28  PLEASURES    OF    SENSE. 

The  God  of  nature  has  not  thought  it  derogatory  to 
his  wisdom,  his  goodness,  or  his  sanctity,  to  bestow 
on  you  this  class  of  enjoyments  ;  and  surely  it  can- 
not be  derogatory  to  yours  to  receive  them  at  his 
hand. 

No  inconsiderable  part  of  the  happiness  allotted 
to  man  is  conveyed  through  the  medium  of  the 
senses,  at  least  in  the  present  world,  and,  perhaps, 
in  the  world  to  come.  For  the  bodies  we  inhabit, 
the  sleep  of  death  being  ended,  will  be  rescued  from 
the  tomb  ;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  perceive  why  they 
should  be  rescued,  if  their  recovery  is  to  have  no  in- 
fluence on  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  eternity  ;  to 
add  nothing  to  the  amount  of  endless  misery  or  im- 
mortal bliss. 

True,  they  deposite  in  the  grave  (I  speak  of  the 
redeemed)  all  their  present  grossness,  pollution,  and 
corruptibility :  for  they  are  to  be  raised  from  thence 
spiritual  bodies.  But  whether  this  transformation, 
this  refinement,  this  sublimation,  which  the  renova- 
ted body  undergoes,  puts  an  eternal  end  to  its  influ- 
ence on  the  happiness  of  the  exulting  soul,  which  at 
the  resurrection  enters  it,  or  whether  this  mysteri- 
ous change  do  not  rather  exalt  its  powers,  and  ren- 
der them  capable  of  communicating  a  happiness 
more  refined  and  sublimated,  is  an  article  on  which, 
though  revelation  were  silent,  it  should  seem  that 
rcEison  could  scarcely  entertain  a  doubt. 

I  know  that  there  are  men,  and  good  men  too, 
who  calumniate,  indiscriminately,  all  the  pleasures 
of  sense.  I  say  calumniate,  for  the  language  they 
utter  is  neither  the  language  of  reason  nor  revela- 


PLEASURES    OF    SENSE.  29 

tion*  The  finger  of  God  is  too  manifest  in  the 
sensitive  part  of  human  nature  to  admit  a  doubt 
concerning  the  innocence  of  those  enjoyments  which 
spring  from  it.  Christianity,  instead  of  abjuring, 
approbates  the  pleasures  of  sense.  She  claims 
them  as  her  own,  and  bids  the  possessor  indulge 
them  to  the  glory  of  the  God  who  gave  them. 
And  the  author  of  Christianity,  that  great  exemplar 
of  righteousness  and  model  of  perfection,  came  eat- 
ing  and  drinking.  Again  and  again  he  graced 
the  festive  board  with  his  divine  presence  :  he  de- 
livered his  celestial  doctrines  amid  the  circles  of  so- 
cial friendship,  and  the  first  of  that  splendid  series 
of  miracles  which  signalized  his  life  was  performed 
at  a  marriage  supper* 

But,  though  the  pleasures  of  sense  constitute  a 
part,  and  an  innocent  part,  it  is  but  a  very  humble 
part  of  human  felicity.  While  they  are  restrained 
within  the  limits,  and  conformed  in  all  respects  to 
the  decorum  of  gospel  morality,  they  are  perfectly 
admissible.  But  if  this  decorum  be  violated,  if 
these  limits  be  transgressed,  order  is  subverted,  and 
guilt,  as  well  as  misery,  ensues. 

On  this  article  nature  herself  coincides  with  reli- 
gion, and  fixes  at  the  same  point  her  sacred  and  un- 
alterable boundary.  She  has  stamped  on  the  very 
frame  of  man  her  veto  against  excess  ;  and  the  ap- 
athy, the  languor,  the  pains  and  disgusts  consequent 
upon  it,  are  her  awful  and  monitory  voice,  which 
fiays  distinctly  to  the  devotee  of  passion,  "  Rash 
mortal,  forbear  :  thou  wast  formed  for  temperance, 
for  chastity ;  these  be  the  law  of  thy  nature.     Hith- 


30    man's  intellectual  nature. 

erto  thou  mayest  come,  but  no  farther ;  and  here 
must  all  thy  appetites  be  stayed.'* 

Attend  to  the  voice  of  nature  :  obey  her  man- 
date. Consider,  even  in  the  heat  of  youthful  blood, 
consider  thy  frame,  "  how  fearfully,  how  wonder- 
fully made  ,•"  how  delicate  its  texture,  how  various, 
how  complicated,  how  frail  its  organs  ;  how  capable 
of  affording  thee  an  exquisite  and  abiding  happiness, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  how  liable,  by  one  rash  act  of 
intemperate  indulgence,  to  be  utterly  deranged  and 
destroyed  for  ever. 

And  let  me  forewarn  you  that  the  region  of  in- 
nocent indulgence  and  guilty  pleasure  border  on 
each  other  ;  a  single  step  only  separates  them.  If 
you  do  not  regulate  your  pleasures  by  principles 
fixed  and  settled  ;  if  you  do  not  keep  in  your  eye 
a  boundary  that  you  will  never  pass  ;  if  you  do  not 
impose  previous  restraints,  but  leave  your  hearts  to 
direct  you  amid  the  glee  of  convivial  mirth  and  the 
blandishments  of  youthful  pleasure,  it  requires  no 
prophetic  eye  to  foresee,  that,  impelled  by  the  gusts 
of  passion,  '*  conscience  will  swing  from  its  moor- 
ings," and  that  your  probity,  your  virtue,  your  inno 
cence  will  be  irrevocably  shipwrecked. 

The  intellectual  nature  of  man, — And  here  the 
design  of  the  Creator  is  more  than  intimated.  The 
posture  of  man  is  erect,  and  his  countenance,  irradi- 
ated by  an  expressive  intelligence,  is  directed  to- 
wards the  heavens.  If  he  possesses  some  faculties 
in  common  with  animals,  he  possesses  others  dis- 
tinct from  theirs  :  faculties  as  much  superior  to  those 
of  sense,  as  the  stars  which  decorate  the  firmament 


man's  intellectual  nature.    31 

of  God  are  higher  and  more  resplendent  than  the 
worthless  pebble  that  sparkles  amid  the  dust  and 
rubbish  on  his  footstool :  faculties  which  no  indul- 
gence surfeits,  no  exercise  impairs,  or  time  destroys: 
often  sustaining  the  infirmities  of  age  ;  often  beam- 
ing with  intellectual  radiance  through  the  palsied  or- 
gans of  a  dying  body,  and  sometimes  even  gilding 
the  evening  of  animal  existence  with  the  anticipated 
splendours  of  immortal  life. 

The  appetites  of  the  body  are  soon  cloyed,  and 
the  richest  banquets  of  sense  disgust.  But  the  ap- 
petites of  the  mind,  if  I  may  speak  so,  are  never  sat- 
isfied. In  all  the  variety,  in  all  the  plenitude,  in  all 
the  luxury  of  mental  enjoyment,  the  most  favoured 
individual  was  never  surfeited,  or  once  heard  to  say, 
**  It  is  enough."  The  more  of  these  delicate,  these 
pure,  these  sublime,  I  had  almost  said  holy  pleas- 
ures, an  individual  enjoys,  the  more  he  is  capable 
of  enjoying,  and  the  more  he  is  solicitous  to  enjoy. 
It  is  the  intellectual  eye  that  is  never  satisfied  with 
seeing,  the  intellectual  ear  that  is  never  satisfied 
with  hearing. 

The  powers  in  question  are  not  more  superior  to 
those  of  sense  than  the  provision  for  them  is  more 
abundant.  Beauty,  grandeur,  novelty — all  the  fine 
arts — music,  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  garden- 
ing, considered  scientifically,  are  so  many  sources 
of  mental  enjoyment.  But  why  do  I  mention  these 
particulars  ?  AH  the  region  of  nature — earth  with 
its  varieties — heaven  with  its  sublimities — the  en- 
tire universe,  ^s  &^3K^ad  out  before  the  intellectual 
observer. 


32  MAN'S    MOBAL    NATURE. 

Nor  the  visible  creation  alone.  To  principalitiefi 
and  powers  ;  to  thrones,  dominions,  and  all  the 
nameless  orders  which  constitute  the  interminable 
line  of  heavenly  excellence,  man  is  introduced  :  or- 
ders for  ever  advancing  in  wisdom,  and  brightening 
in  the  splendours  of  intellectual  glory,  at  the  head 
of  which  appears  the  Eternal  Being,  who  alone 
changes  not,  because  infinite  perfection  cannot 
change.  The  pleasure  which  springs  from  the 
knowledge  and  contemplation  of  these  objects, 
this  universe  of  good,  is  so  ineffable,  so  transcend- 
ent, that  the  wretch  who  does  not  prefer  it  to  the 
mere  indulgence  of  sense,  though  free  of  other 
crimes,  evinces  a  depravity  which  merits  eternal 
reprobation. 

His  moral  nature, — Man  was  made  to  be  reli- 
gious, to  acknowledge  and  reverence  God,  and  to 
be  conformed  in  his  moral  conduct  to  the  law  of 
God.  You  have  only  to  consult  your  hearts  to  be 
convinced  of  this.  The  proof  is  there  inscribed  irj 
characters  which  are  indelible. 

When  even  the  child  looks  abroad  into  the  works 
of  the  Creator,  he  naturally  refers  the  objects  which 
surround  him  to  an  adequate  first  cause,  and  asks, 
"  Where  is  God  their  maker."  If  sudden  danger 
threatens  him,  his  eye  is  directed  to  the  heavens  for 
relief.  If  unexpected  happiness  overtakes  him,  his 
heart  breaks  forth  in  grateful  acknowledgments  to 
an  unseen  benefactor.  Even  the  untutored  savago 
surveys  the  wilderness  of  nature — the  extended 
earth,  the  distant  heavens — with  religious  awe^  and 
pays  to  their  creator  an  instinctive  homage. 


SKEPTICISM.  33 

Devotion  is  a  law  of  human  nature  ;  and  you 
can  with  no  more  consistency  deny  its  existence, 
than  you  can  deny  the  existence  of  the  laws  by 
which  heaven  and  earth  are  governed.  You  may 
as  well  deny  that  there  is  a  principle  in  your  bodies 
that  binds  them  to  the  earth,  as  that  there  is  a 
principle  in  your  souls  which  elevates  them  to  the 
heavens. 

Nor  is  the  reality  of  the  moral  sense  more  ques- 
tionable. Self-complacency  springs  from  the  per- 
formance of  duty  ;  shame  and  regret  from  the  com- 
mission of  sin.  Skepticism  may  endeavour  to  per- 
suade you  to  the  contrary,  but  it  never  can.  It  has 
indeed  weakened  the  faith  and  clouded  the  hopes  of 
thousands,  but  it  never  gave  a  single  individual  a 
settled,  firm,  and  abiding  belief  that  there  is  no  God, 
no  futurity,  or  that  man  is  not  accountable.  There 
have  been  serious  and  awful  moments  in  the  lives 
of  ihe  boldest  champions  of  infidelity  when  they 
have  discovered  symptoms  of  dereliction  :  moments 
when  the  struggles  of  nature  could  not  be  repressed, 
and  when  the  voice  of  nature  has  been  heard  to 
break  forth.  The  punishment  of  Cain,  given  up  to 
the  tortures  of  a  guilty  mind,  was  greater  than  he 
could  bear ;  and  the  spectre  of  John  the  Baptist 
haunted  the  bedchamber  of  Herod  long  after  the 
tomb  had  become  to  that  martyr  a  bed  of  repose. 
Who  was  it,  think  you,  that  anticipated  the  prophet 
in  interpreting  the  handwriting  of  Belshazzar,  and 
smote  the  sacrilegious  wretch  with  trembling  1  Why 
did  Galerius  relent  on  his  death-bed?  And  what 
made  Caligula  afraid  when  it  thundered  ?     It  was 


34  CONSCIENCE. 

conscience  :  who,  startled  by  danger  from  her  slum- 
bers, shook  her  terrific  sceptre,  and  uttered  her  mon- 
itory voice. 

Nor  is  it  material  to  inquire  why  man  is  thus 
formed.  It  is  a  fact  that  he  is  so  formed  ;  nor  is  it 
possible  for  him  to  be  happy  in  a  course  of  conduct 
which  does  violence  to  his  nature.  From  the  pen 
alties  of  the  mind  you  can  no  more  escape  than 
from  the  appetites  of  the  body.  You  may  avoid  the 
malediction  of  an  earthly  tribunal.  You  may  avoid, 
says  the  irreligionist,  the  malediction  of  God :  but 
yourselves — the  retribution  of  juj^tice  within  youi 
own  bosoms — how  is  this  to  be  avoided?  Con- 
science, like  that  Divinity  of  which  it  is  a  symbol, 
with  respect  to  you,  is  omnipresent.  Though  you 
ascend  to  heaven — though  you  make  your  bed  in 
hell — though  you  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 
and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  this 
avenger  of  sin  will  accompany  you :  watching  with 
an  eye  from  which  no  darkness  can  conceal,  and 
chastising  with  a  thong  that  no  fortitude  can  endure. 
The  spirit  of  man  will  sustain  his  infiiinity,  hut  a 
wounded  spirit  who  can  hear  1 

Such  briefly  is  man  :  in  providing  for  whose  hap- 
piness his  entire  constitution  must  be  consulted, 
each  distinct  capacity  of  enjoyment  must  be  furnish- 
ed with  appropriate  objects,  and  a  due  proportion 
between  them  all  must  be  preserved. 

Be  this  your  care.  Despise  not  corporal  pleas- 
ures, neither  exalt  them  too  highly.  Hold  them 
subordinate  to  intellectual  enjoyments,  and  these 
subordinate  to  moral      Your  intellectual  and  moral 


VIRTUE    AMD    HAPPINESS.  35 

nature  is  what  allies  you  to  angels  and  assimilates 
you  to  God.  Age  will  presently  rob  you  of  all  the 
delights  of  sense  ;  but  of  intellectual  and  moral 
delights  neither  age  nor  death  can  rob  you.  To 
the  votary  of  science  and  religion,  the  last  cup  of 
heavenly  consolation  is  not  poured  out  till  his  eye 
is  closing  on  the  world,  and  his  flesh  descending 
into  the  grave  in  hope. 

A  life  of  virtue  and  happiness,  then,  exactly  co- 
incide. To  practise  the  one  is  to  secure  the  other. 
The  God  of  virtue  formed  every  faculty  of  pleasure, 
and  has  made  them  all  subservient  to  duty.  There 
are  those,  I  am  sensible,  who  represent  religion 
shrouded  in  gloom  and  covered  with  scowls ;  but 
the  attitude,  the  drapery,  the  features  are  unlike  the 
divine  original,  and  betray  the  pencil  of  an  enemy. 
There  never  was,  nor  ever  will  be,  one  source  of 
happiness  which  reUgion  does  not  authorize. 

Some,  indeed,  speak  of  all  the  pleasures  of  sense 
as  pleasures  of  sin.  But  such  language  is  at  once 
an  outrage  to  common  sense  and  an  indignity  to 
God.  Sin  never  gave  the  faculties  of  sense,  and 
let  not  sin  claim  the  bliss  that  springs  from  them. 
There  is  not  a  being  in  the  universe  that  owes  to 
sin  a  single  enjoyment.  The  immortal  God  is  the 
author  of  them  all.  He  made  you  what  you  are  ; 
and  if,  in  the  abuse  of  the  faculties  he  has  bestowed, 
a  single  delight  remain,  it  is  owing  to  his  clemency. 

Which  of  the  faculties  is  it,  I  would  ask,  that  sin 
improves  ?  Is  it  the  eye  ?  Is  it  the  ear  ?  Is  it 
the  palate  ?  Does  sin  add  any  new  faculties  1  No  ; 
she  only  palsies  the  energies,  perverts  the  use,  and 


36  VIRTUE    AND   HAPPINESS. 

poisons  the  pleasures  of  those  which  before  existed : 
these  are  her  baneful  and  damning  work — under 
whose  influence,  delights,  once  desired,  disgust  the 
thoughts  and  pall  upon  the  senses.  My  God !  if 
you  are  beguiled  by  an  idea  of  the  pleasures  of  sin, 
look  once  upon  the  emaciated  body,  the  pallid  coun- 
tenance, the  bloated  features,  and  the  mutilated  face 
of  the  loathsome  and  worn-out  sensualist !  Look 
again  !  And  can  you  believe  the  place  of  his  resort 
is  the  habitation  of  pleasures  ?  No  :  'tis  the  temple 
of  pollution,  of  disease,  of  death  ;  there  sin,  accur^ 
sed  sorceress,  mingles  her  cup  and  infuses  her  poi- 
son. Mark  the  place,  avoid  it,  turn  from  it,  and 
flee  away. 

After  this,  will  you  believe  that  virtue  is  your  en- 
emy] that  religion  requires  sacrifices?  If  so,  in 
the  name  of  God,  what  are  they  ?  I  know  of  none, 
unless  of  disease,  of  pain,  of  infamy. 

True,  you  may  not  riot  at  the  banquets  of  Bac- 
chus ;  but  you  may  participate  in  temperance  at  the 
table  of  convivial  mirth,  and,  exhilarated,  rise  from 
thence  to  give  God  thanks.  You  may  not  steal  at 
midnight  to  the  infamous  pleasures  of  the  brothel  ; 
but  you  may  cherish  at  your  homes  the  refined,  the 
hallowed  pleasures  of  connubial  friendship.  You 
may  not,  indeed,  so  much  as  lay  your  head  upon 
the  lap  of  Delilah ;  but  you  may  live  joyfully  with 
the  wife  whom  you  love  all  the  days  of  your  pil- 
grimage, for  it  is  the  portion  which  God  gives  you 
under  the  sun. 

As  we  have  said,  a  I  Je  of  virtue  and  a  life  of  hap- 
piness coincide  ;  and  .le  who  seeks  the  latter  in  op- 


CONDUCT   TO    OPPONENTS.  37 

position  to  the  former,  counteracts  the  laws  of  na- 
ture ;  contradicts  the  experience  of  ages  ;  and,  to 
succeed,  must  transcend  not  himself  only,  but  his 
Maker  also,  and  become  more  potent  than  omnip- 
otence himself.  The  body  can  subsist  in  health 
without  aliment  as  easily  as  the  soul  without  virtue : 
nor  is  poison  more  fatal  to  the  one  than  the  venom 
of  sin  to  the  other.  This  is  a  matter  of  experience, 
of  fact ;  and  whoever  asserts  to  the  contrary,  belies 
his  heart,  and  contradicts  the  testimony  of  a  world. 

I  have  detained  you  so  long  on  the  means  of  hap- 
piness, that  time  would  fail  me  were  I  to  e^ter  in 
detail  on  the  conduct  of  life.  The  great  principles 
of  morality  and  piety  are  involved  in  the  argument  we 
have  been  pursuing.  An  incidental  thought  or  two, 
suggested  by  the  times  in  which  we  hve,  is  all  that 
will  be  attempted. 

Permit  me,  then,  particularly  to  enjoin  you  to  con- 
duct  honourably  and  charitably  towards  those  who 
are  opposed  to  you  in  their  opinions.  Diversity  of 
sentiment  is  inevitable  in  a  state  of  things  like  the 
present.  The  dispensation  of  time  is  an  obscure 
dispensation,  and,  till  the  light  of  eternity  shall  break 
upon  the  mind,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  erring 
mortals  will  see  eye  to  eye.  While  groping  in  this 
world,  and  following  the  guidance  of  that  erring  rea- 
son which  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  direct  us  through 
it,  it  must  be  folly  to  suppose  ourselves  always  in 
the  right,  and  more  than  folly  to  reprobate  those 
whom  we  consider  in  the  wrong. 

Society,  on  which  you  are  about  to  enter,  is  al- 
ready divided  into  various  sects  in  religion,  and  agi- 


38  FORMATION    OF   JUDGMENT. 

tated  by  contending  parlies  in  politics.  Between 
tliese  hold  the  balance  with  an  equal  hand,  and  let 
merit,  and  not  prejudice  or  interest,  turn  the  beam. 

To  judge  correctly,  you  must  take  a  comprehen- 
sive view  of  the  whole  field  of  controversy  ;  and, 
having  honestly  formed  your  judgment,  give  full 
credit  to  the  merit  of  those  who  differ  from  you, 
and  be  sparing  of  the  censure  which  you  conceive 
to  be  their  due. 

Beware  of  judging  bodies  of  men  in  the  gross^ 
as  though  each  individual  were  chargeable  ivith  the 
vices  of  the  whole.  There  is  no  body  of  men  among 
whom  you  may  not  find  something  to  admiie  and 
much  to  blame.  Be  careful  to  separate,  therefore, 
the  gold  from  the  dross,  and  to  distinguish  the  pre- 
cious from  the  vile. 

If  there  can  be  anything  that  can  disgrace  civil- 
ized society,  it  is  a  spirit  of  indiscriminate  and  wan- 
ton slander  ;  a  spirit,  the  vilest  with  which  any  na- 
tion can  be  cursed.  And  yet  this  spirit  exists.  It 
exists  among  us.  It  pervades  the  whole  extent  of 
a  country  once  proudly  pre-eminent  for  every  social 
virtue.  It  insinuates  itself  into  the  cottage  of  the 
peasant ;  it  enters,  I  had  almost  said  resides,  in  the 
mansion  of  the  great.  It  is  cherished  by  every 
party ;  it  moves  in  every  circle.  It  hovers  round 
the  sacred  altar  of  mercy  ;  it  approaches  the  awful 
seat  of  justice.  In  one  word,  it  surrounds  us  on 
every  side,  and  on  every  side  it  breathes  forth  its 
pestilential  vapour,  blasting  talents  and  virtue,  and 
reducing,  like  the  grave,  whose  pestiferous  influence 


PRACTICAL   DUTY.  39 

It  imitates,  the  great,  and  the  good,  and  the  ignoble, 
and  the  vile,  to  the  same  humiliating  level. 

Permit  me  to  indulge  the  hope,  young  gentlemen, 
that  you  will  never  enlist  under  the  banner  of  this 
foe  to  human  happiness,  nor  prostitute  your  talents, 
or  even  lend  your  names,  to  this  work  of  intellectual 
massacre. 

Having  taken  so  much  pains  and  expended  so 
much  treasure  in  preparing  for  future  usefulness, 
will  you  consent  to  become  mere  scavengers  in  so- 
ciety, and  spend  your  lives  in  collecting  and  retailino* 
filth  1  Remember  that  the  course  of  the  eagle  is 
directed  towards  the  heavens,  and  that  it  is  the  ser- 
pent that  winds  along  the  fens,  creeps  upon  his  belly, 
and  licks  the  dust. 

Whatever  party  you  may  join,  or  in  whatever  ri- 
valships  you  may  engage,  let  your  warfare  be  that 
of  honourable  policy,  and  not  the  smutty  contest 
which  succeeds  by  blackening  private  character. 
Convinced  of  the  sacredness  of  reputation,  never 
permit  yourselves  to  sport  with  the  virtues,  or  even 
lightly  attack  the  vices  of  men  in  power.  If  they 
pass  a  certain  boundary,  indeed  sufferance  would  be 
pusillanimity,  and  silence  treason.  But  the  public 
good,  and  not  private  interest  or  private  resentment, 
must  fix  that  boundary. 

There  is  a  homage  due  to  the  sanctity  of  office, 
whoever  fills  it :  an  homage  which  every  man  owes, 
and  which  every  good  man  will  feel  himself  bound 
to  pay,  after  the  sublime  example  of  him  who, 
though  a  Jew  and  residing  at  Jerusalem,  rendered 
honour  and  paid  tribute  to  Csesar  at  Rome. 


40  DUTY  TO  PARENTS. 

I  cannot  sum  up  all  that  I  would  wish  to  say  to 
you  on  practical  duty  better  than  by  placing  the  en- 
tire character  of  Jesus  Christ  before  you  as  a  per- 
fect niodel,  in  the  imitation  of  which  will  alike  con- 
sist your  happiness  and  glory.  On  every  important 
question,  ask  what  would  have  been  his  opinion, 
what  his  conduct ;  and  let  the  answer  regulate  your 
own. 

Methinks  your  parents,  some  of  whom  I  see  in 
this  assembly,  add  their  sanction  to  the  counsel  I 
am  now  delivering.  Parents  whom  I  cannot  but 
commend  particularly  to  your  ingenuousness,  and 
from  their  kindness  and  solicitude  derive  an  argu- 
ment to  enforce  all  that  I  have  said.  You  will  never 
know,  till  the  bitterness  of  filial  ingratitude  shall 
teach  you,  the  extent  of  the  duty  that  you  owe  them. 
On  you  their  affections  have  been  placed  :  on  you 
their  treasures  expended.  With  what  tenderness 
they  ministered  to  your  wants  in  helpless  infancy ; 
with  what  patience  they  bore  with  your  indiscretions 
in  wayward  childhood  ;  and  with  what  solicitude 
they  watched  your  steps  in  erring  youth.  No  care 
has  been  too  severe  ;  no  self-denials  too  painful ;  no 
sacrifices  too  great,  which  would  contribute  to  your 
felicity.  To  your  welfare  the  meridian  of  life  has 
been  constantly  devoted,  and  even  its  cheerless 
evening  is  rendered  supportable  by  the  prospect  of 
leaving  you  the  heirs  of  their  fame  and  of  their  for- 
tune. For  all  this  affection  and  kindness,  the  only 
reward  they  expect,  the  only  requital  they  ask,  is, 
that,  when  you  enter  on  the  world,  you  will  act  wor- 
thy of  yourselves,  and  not  dishonour  them. 


FILIAL   PIETY.  41 

And  shall  this  requital  be  denied  themi  Will 
you,  by  your  follies,  disturb  even  the  tranquillity  of 
£ge ;  rob  declining  life  of  its  few  remaining  pleas- 
ures, and,  snatching  away  from  the  palsied  hand  of 
your  aged  parents  the  last  cup  of  earthly  consola- 
tion, bring  their  gray  hairs  with  anticipated  sorrow 
to  the  grave  1 

It  was  a  noble  spectacle,  amid  the  flames  that 
were  consuming  Troy,  and  while  the  multitude  were 
intent  only  on  rescuing  their  paltry  treasures,  to  see 
the  dutiful  iEneas  bearing  on  his  shoulders  the  ven- 
erable Anchises,  his  aged  father,  to  a  place  of  safety. 
But  ah !  how  rare  such  examples  of  filial  piety ! 
My  God !  the  blood  freezes  in  the  veins  at  the 
thought  of  the  ingratitude  of  children.  Spirits  of 
my  sainted  parents,  could  I  recall  the  hours  when 
it  was  in  my  power  to  honour  you,  how  different 
should  be  my  conduct !  Ah  I  were  not  the  dead 
unmindful  of  the  reverence  the  living  pay  them,  I 
would  disturb  the  silence  of  your  tombs  with  nightly 
orisons,  and  bedew  the  urn  which  contains  your 
ashes  with  perpetual  tears  ! 

It  is  within  your  power  to  prevent  the  bitterness 
of  such  regrets.  But  I  must  arrest  the  current  of 
my  feelings.  Your  future  usefulness,  your  eternal 
salvation,  constitute  a  motive  so  vast,  so  solemn, 
that,  were  I  to  yield  to  its  overwhelming  influence,  I 
should  protract  the  hour  of  separation,  and  fill  up 
with  counsel  and  admonition  the  declining  day. 

I  shall  address  you  no  more.  I  shall  meet  with 
you  no  more,  till,  having  passed  the  solemnities  of 
death,  I  meet  you  in  eternity.  So  spend  the  inter- 
D 


42  FAREWELL. 

vening  period,  I  adjure  you,  that  that  meeting  may 
be  joyous  ;  and  the  immortality  which  shall  follow 
it  splendid  as  the  grace  of  that  God  is  free,  to 
whom,  surrendering  my  charge,  I  now  commit  you. 
Leaving  with  you  this  counsel,  I  bid  you  an  affeo 
lionate  and  final  farewell. 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    YOUNG.  43 

III. 

DELIVERED    JULY   29,   1807. 

[The  young  require  to  be  specially  cautioned  against  the  pre- 
dominant Vices  of  the  Day. — Spirit  of  mutual  Injury,  Recrim- 
ination, and  Revenge  characteristic  of  the  Times. — Definition 
of  Revenge,  and  its  wicked  and  odious  Character  described. — 
Private  Revenge  forbidden  by  the  Divine  Law,  and  Van 
geance  declared  to  belong  to  God  alone.— Under  what  cir- 
cumstances, and  how  far  we  may  resist  Personal  Injuries.— 
False  and  True  Honour. — The  practice  of  Duelling:  its  Sin 
fulness  and  awful  Consequences. — Christian  Treatment  of 
Enemies. — An  arrogant,  ambitious,  and  revengeful  Disposition 
in  the  last  degree  hateful  in  a  Christian  minister. — The  Char- 
acter of  the  Saviour,  his  Precepts  and  perfect  Example  teach 
us  how  we  should  at  ail  times  act  under  Injuries.] 

Young  gentlemen,  a  seminary  is  a  world  in  min- 
iature. The  resemblances  are  strong  and  numer- 
ous :  none  of  which,  however,  strike  the  mind  more 
forcibly  than  that  succession  of  actors,  who,  trip- 
ping over  the  stage,  sustain  the  parts  of  the  passing 
drama.  As  generation  follows  generation,  so  class 
follows  class  ;  and  the  gladsome  smile  of  social  in- 
tercourse soon  gives  place  to  the  solemn  gloom  of 
final  separation.  On  these  occasions,  custom  author- 
izes an  address  to  the  young  adventurers,  and  nature 
sanctions  what  custom  authorizes.  Anxious  for 
your  future  welfare,  your  instructers,  who  have  hith- 
erto guarded  your  virtue  and  watched  for  your  hap- 
piness, seize  on  the  parting  interview,  and,  by  the 
solemn  circumstances  which  crowd  upon  the  mind, 
urge  their  last  counsel. 


44  SPIRIT    OF    THE    TIMES. 

It  is  not  possible,  in  the  few  moments  allotted  to 
this  address,  to  develop,  or  even  hint  at  all  those 
doctrines  of  faith  which  demand  your  attention  ;  nor 
should  I  feel  as  if  I  had  discharged  the  sacred  duty 
which  I  owed  you,  had  I  left  these  to  a  hasty  dis- 
cussion in  this  place  and  on  this  occasion.  To 
furnish  you  with  a  complete  summary  of  practical 
duty  is  also  impossible.  A  glance  only  at  a  topic 
or  two  is  all  that  will  be  attempted.  The  real  friend 
adapts  his  admonitions  to  the  dangers  which  threaten, 
and  shapes  his  cautions  to  the  spirit  of  the  times  ; 
the  spirit  of  the  times  is  a  spirit  of  mutual  inju7^y, 
recrimination^  and  revenge.  In  such  an  age,  to  hope 
to  pass  through  life  unassailed  is  vain.  The  only 
question  is,  therefore,  how  are  you  to  sustain  the  as- 
sault ;  how  treat  the  assailant  1 

Were  the  ivorld  to  utter  its  voice  in  this  place,  it 
would  tell  you  to  be  ever  vigilant  to  discover  causes 
of  offence  ;  quick  in  repelling,  and  inexorable  in  re- 
venging to  the  uttermost  the  slightest  attack  upon 
your  person  or  your  honour.  The  gospel,  how- 
ever, adopts  a  different  counsel,  and,  in  the  bland 
accents  of  its  Author,  inculcates  forbearance  and 
forgiveness. 

The  crimes  and  miseries  resulting  from  revenge 
have  been  witnessed  in  every  country  and  regretted 
in  every  age.  Philosophy,  in  attempting  to  regulate, 
hath  increased  the  evil.  Christianity  alone  directs 
her  weapons  at  its  root,  and  aims  at  preventing  the 
effects  by  exterminating  the  principle. 

Revenge  has  been  defined,  the  inflicting  of  pain 
upon  the  person  who  has  injured  or  offended  us,far-^ 


CHARACTER    OF    REVENGE.  45 

ther  than  the  just  ends  of  punishment  or  reparation 
require.  "There  can  be  no  difficulty  in  knowing 
when  we  occasion  pain  to  another,  nor  much  in 
distinguishing  whether  we  do  so  with  a  view  only  to 
the  ends  of  punishment  or  from  revenge ;  for  in 
the  one  case  we  proceed  with  reluctance,  in  the  oth- 
er with  pleasure." 

Most,  if  not  all  the  human  passions,  have  their 
use  in  the  economy  of  life  ;  and,  when  sanctified 
by  grace,  conduce  no  less  to  virtue  than  to  happi- 
ness. But  how  can  a  passion  which  has  misery  as 
its  object  be  useful — how  agreeable  to  the  Deity? 
Where  could  have  been  its  sphere  of  action  in  the 
primeval  state — or  towards  whom  could  it  have  been 
directed,  while  mutual  love  predominated  in  the 
breast  of  man  ?  To  these  interrogations  it  is  not 
easy  to  give  a  satisfactory  answer.  Is  revenge, 
then,  a  new  principle  resulting  from  the  apostacy  ? 
I  know  that  the  apostacy  touched  the  vital  principle 
of  man  with  death ;  that  it  corrupted  and  perverted 
those  faculties  and  powers  which  before  existed  ;  but 
I  do  not  know  that  it  created  new  ones.  And  when 
man  shall  be  restored  to  that  perfection  from  which 
he  hath  fallen,  the  restoration  will  consist,  not  in  the 
annihilation  of  any  of  his  faculties,  but  in  the  recov- 
ery of  his  entire  nature  from  sin  to  holiness  ;  so 
that  he  who  before  hated  will  now  love  his  Maker 
ivith  all  his  heart,  soul,  mind,  and  strength,  and  his 
neighbour  as  himself,. 

May  it,  then,  not  be  supposed,  that  the  principle 
in  question  is  not  a  new  one  ;  but  the  ruins  of  a 
once  holy  principle  implanted  in  the  breasts  of  moral 


46  DISTRIBUTIVE    JUSTICE. 

agents,  predisposing  them  to  acquiesce  in  distributive 
justice,  and  to  say,  in  view  of  the  executed  penal- 
ties of  the  fearful  law  of  God,  tt^ue  and  righteous 
are  thy  judgments  1  and  which  principle,  now  per- 
verted and  depraved,  prompts  the  proud  possessor 
not  to  acquiesce  in,  but  to  seize  on  the  administra- 
tion of  Jehovah  :  to  utter  his  malediclions,  and  hurl 
his  thunders  on  every  being  who  has  done,  or  is 
supposed  to  have  done  him  an  injury. 

Though  there  cannot  be  an  intentional  injury 
without  sin,  and  though  pain  is,  and  for  ever  will  be, 
the  just  desert  of  the  sinner,  it  is  not  the  province 
of  any  created  being  to  ascertain  the  degree  of  pain 
due  for  any  offence,  or  to  inflict  the  same  when  as- 
certained. This  is  an  act  of  distributive  penal  jus- 
tice, which  belongs  to  God,  and  to  him  exclusively. 
Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  ike  Lord. 

So  minute  are  the  causes  which  operate  on  hu- 
man minds,  so  imperceptible  are  the  shades  of  moral 
turpitude,  that  the  Omniscient  Being  alone  is  com- 
petent to  distributive  justice.  In  civil  governments, 
even  penal  codes  are  not  founded  on  distributive, 
but  general  justice ;  nor  do  these  aim  at  the  appor- 
tionment of  penalties  to  personal  demerit,  but  at 
the  prevention  of  crimes  or  the  reformation  of  ofl^end- 
ers — a  thing  totally  different  in  its  nature  from  the 
assignment  of  a  certain  degree  of  suffering  to  a 
certain  degree  of  criminality.  Hence  the  difficulty 
of  detecting,  and  the  necessity  of  preventing  certain 
offences,  and  not  the  malignity  of  each  paiticular 
case,  determine  human  legislators  in  the  severity  of 
their  pena'ties. 


INFLICTION    OF    PUNISHMENT.  47 

But,  if  civil  governments,  authorized  by  Divine 
appointment,  are  not  to  execute  vengeance  on  offend- 
ers, much  less  are  individuals  to  do  this.  It  is, 
therefore,  no  apology  for,  or,  rather,  justification  of, 
an  act  of  vengeance,  that  the  person  who  is  the  ob- 
ject of  it  is  guilty :  nor  does  it  alter  the  case  that 
that  guilt  has  been  incurred  by  an  injury  done  to 
you.  He  may  deserve  to  be  chastised  for  his  te- 
merity, but  you  are  not  constituted  either  the  judge 
or  the  executor  of  that  chastisement. 

Not  that  I  would  inculcate  that  pain  may  never 
be  inflicted  on  the  individual  who  has  done  you 
wrong.  It  sometimes  may  and  ought  to  be  inflict- 
ed. But  the  motive  to  this  infliction  of  pain,  and 
the  measure  of  pain  to  be  inflicted,  are  to  be  look- 
ed for  in  the  good  it  will  produce,  and  not  in  the 
misery  due  to  the  oflTender.  There  are  cases  of 
personal  injury  where  the  will  of  the  great  Law- 
giver is  expressed.  In  every  other  instance  your 
own  good,  the  good  of  the  offender,  or  the  public 
good,  can  alone  constitute  a  justifiable  motive  for 
punishing,  or  fix  the  measure  of  the  punishment. 
And  where  neither  of  these  ends  can  be  answered, 
no  matter  of  what  crime  an  individual  may  have 
been  guilty — no  matter  what  punishment  he  deserves 
from  God,  his  Maker  and  his  Master,  he  deserves 
none  from  you.  Avenge  not  yourselves,  hut  rather 
give  place  unto  ivrath.  These  are  the  words  of  an 
apostle.  But  I  say  unto  you  that  you  resist  not 
evil :  but  whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right 
cheeh,  turn  to  him  the  other  also.  Jlnd  whosoever 
will  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also. 


4b  RIGHT    OF    SELF-PRESERVATION. 

These  are  the  words  of  Christ.  They  are,  how- 
ever, not  to  be  interpreted  literally,  but  proverbially : 
inculcating  habitual  forbearance,  and  the  overcoming 
of  evil  with  good. 

Express  declarations  of  Scripture  give  you  a 
right,  in  extreme  cases,  to  defend  yourselves,  even 
fit  the  expense  of  the  life  of  the  assailant.  Here 
the  motive  is  self-defence,  and  the  force  made  use 
of  ought  to  be  proportioned  to  the  danger,  and  not 
to  exceed  it.  In  such  cases,  where  human  laws 
cannot  operate  for  your  protection,  or  repair  the  evil 
to  which  forbearance  might  subject  you,  the  Divine 
law  interposes,  and  constitutes  you  the  executor  of 
its  justice  ;  and  where  the  alarm  does  not  produce 
a  state  of  mind  incompatible  with  moral  agency, 
your  act  on  the  invader  of  your  rights  may  be  con- 
sidered as  an  official  one.  But  these  acts  are  es- 
sentially different  from  those  revenges  which  are 
every  day  taking  place,  where  the  injury  done  to  the 
aggressor  neither  prevents  nor  repairs  the  injury 
done  hy  him.  Besides,  those  acts  are  in  direct  vio- 
lation of  civil  government,  which  make  the  laws 
umpire  in  cases  of  controversy,  and  leaves  not  the 
injured  individual  to  be  judge  in  his  own  cause. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  wish  to  extinguish  in  your 
bosoms  the  genuine  principles  of  honour.  These 
spring  up  from  the  very  seat  of  virtue  ;  and  where 
these  are  not,  greatness  disappears — probity,  integ- 
rity, and  valour  are  no  more.  Rather  let  me  incul- 
cate high  notions  of  personal  character  ;  let  me  fos- 
ter a  lofty  sense  of  individual  dignity,  and  adjure 
you  scrupulously  to  avoid  whatever  would  tend  to 

\ 


DUELLING.  49 

stain  the  one  or  degrade  the  other ;  but  let  me  tell 
you  that  is  but  a  sorry  honour  which  requires  to  be 
established  by  a  challenge  or  vindicated  by  a  shot. 

Personal  bravery  is  commendable.  You  live  not 
for  yourselves,  but  for  your  friends,  your  country, 
your  God.  In  a  good  cause  you  ought  not  to  re- 
gard even  life  itself.  On  great  occasions,  and  when 
the  voice  of  public  justice  calls  you,  face  danger, 
tread  with  undaunted  step  the  field  of  death,  and 
covet  the  place  of  desolation.  But  in  your  own  in- 
dividual cause  ;  in  the*  little  pitiful  neglects  and  in- 
sults which  may  be  offered  you,  be  too  great  to  feel 
them,  too  magnanimous  to  resent  them. 

Shall  you,  then,  desert  your  honour?  No:  de- 
fend it — scrupulously  defend  it.  How  ?  By  a  good 
life ;  by  a  uniform  course  of  probity,  integrity,  and 
valour.  Whenevier  you  are  accused,  you  will  either 
be  guilty  or  not.  If  guilty,  an  exchange  of  shots 
cannot  expiate  that  guilt :  if  you  are  not  guilty,  the 
liar's  tongue  cannot  make  you  so. 

What  a  humiliating  spectacle  do  those  appellants, 
in  cases  of  personal  controversy,  to  the  chancery  of 
firearms,  furnish  to  the  world ! 

But  to  this  degrading  farce  there  is  appended  a 
solemn  after  scene,  which  stifles  irony,  and  from 
which  appalled  humanity  turns  away  with  horror. 
Suddenly  the  scene  changes  into  the  tragic  pomp  of 
death.  The  mania  of  passion  subsides.  The  eii- 
quette  of  honour  is  laid  aside  ;  the  stream  of  life, 
flowing  out  from  the  wounded  heart,  quenches  the 
fire  of  vengeance,  and  swallows  up  the  injuries 
which  produced  a  catastrophe  so  awful.  Conscience 
E 


60  DUELLING. 

awakes ;  the  fictitious  drapery  which  custom  had 
flung  around  the  rash  adventurer  falls  off ;  the  fell 
assassin  stands,  naked  and  aghast,  over  the  expiring 
victim  of  his  anger ;  a  witness  of  that  blood,  which, 
issuing  forth,  attaches  to  his  person  the  stain  of 
murder,  and  lifts  from  the  steeped  earth  its  accusing 
voice  to  the  God  of  life.  With  the  emotions  of 
Cain  imbrued  in  his  brother's  blood,  he  goes  back 
into  the  world  from  the  field  of  death.  There  his 
eye  meets  the  frantic  stare  of  the  wife  whom  his 
wrath  hath  made  a  widow.  The  plaints  of  her  hap- 
less children,  whom  he  has  doomed  to  perpetual  or- 
phanage, sigh  upon  the  breeze  and  linger  on  his 
ear :  while  a  distracted  father  shakes  his  gray  locks, 
and  utters  from  his  quivering  lips  his  deep-toned 
execration  on  the  wretch  who  has  felled  at  a  blow  his 
hopes,  and  consigned  to  the  grave  his  son ! 

From  these  sad  objects  he  tears  himself;  but,  as 
if  the  tomb  refused  to  repose  the  dust  consigned  to 
it  by  violence,  the  form  of  his  fallen  adversary  pur- 
sues him.  He  hears,  amid  the  silence  of  the  mid- 
night hour,  a  groan — and  sees  blood  still  issuing  from 
the  wound  which  in  his  wrath  he  opened. 

And  for  what  is  this  rash  act  indulged,  which 
drags  in  its  train  such  accumulated  horrors  ?  For 
an  unguarded  word — a  turn  of  wit — the  omission  of 
a  nod — or,  perhaps,  the  fighting  of  a  spaniel.  Great 
God  !  and  is  this  the  boasted  magnanimity  of  duel- 
lists 1  Sooner  may  my  joints  indurate  in  their  sock- 
ets, or  mine  arm  fall  severed  from  my  shoulder- 
blade,  than  be  raised  in  such  an  action. 

But,  aside  from  powder  and  bullets,  and  all  that 


RETALIATION.  61 

nameless  machinery  of  justice  which  constitutes  the 
tribunal  of  honour  (a  tribunal  before  which,  I  pray 
God,  you  may  never  disgrace  yourselves  by  appear- 
ing), it  remains  a  question  how  you  are  to  meet 
V  those  disingenuous  attacks  to  which  you  will  inev- 
itably be  exposed? 

The  law  of  retaliation  is  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and 
a  tooth  for  a  tooth.  Sheltering  themselves  under 
the  rigour  of  this  law,  men  of  implacable  temper 
indulge  resentment ;  and  when  a  malicious  slander- 
er spits  forth  the  venom  of  his  heart,  they  spit  forth 
the  venom  of  theirs  in  return.  But  I  say  unto  you, 
resist  not  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good.  Must 
you,  then,  always  restrain  your  pen,  and,  passive  to 
injury,  seal  your  lips  in  silence  ?  No  :  there  may 
be  cases  in  which  the  cause  of  truth  requires  not 
only  the  avowal  of  your  sentiments,  but  also  a  firm 
and  manly  vindication  of  them.  When  this  is  the 
fact,  to  shrink  from  the  ordeal  of  scrutiny  were  pu- 
sillanimity— were  treason.  When  this  is  the  fact, 
be  regardless  of  personal  consequences,  encounter 
reproach,  and  become  a  voluntary  martyr  to  right- 
eousness. But,  even  in  the  act  of  martyrdom, 
watch  your  deceitful  hearts,  that  righteousness,  not 
self  be  your  motive. 

There  may,  too,  be  cases  in  which  a  reply  to  dis- 
ingenuous insinuations  or  open  slanders  may  be  re- 
quisite as  a  vindication  of  yourselves.  These  cases, 
however,  are  fewer,  much  fewer  than  you  imagine  | 
and  prudence,  not  passion,  will  point  them  out.  You 
may  never  reply  for  the  sake  of  goading  your  ad- 
versary, however  much  you  may  have  him  in  your 


52  SCANDAL. SUSPICION. 

power;  and  seldom,  very  seldom,  will  it  be  wise  to 
reply  a?  a  personal  defence. 

Scandal,  left  to  itself,  usually  loses  its  power  to 
injure.  Suspicion  will  not  easily  attach  to  the  char- 
acter of  a  good  man  while  he  acts  consistently,  and 
remains  in  the  dignified  posture  of  self-approving 
silence.  He  who  pursues  the  path  of  duty,  noi 
swerves  from  his  purpose,  however  attacked,  carries 
his  vindication  with  him  ;  and  usually  proceeds  more 
^successfully,  and  always  more  nobly,  than  he  who, 
halting,  stoops  to  indulge  the  littleness  of  anger, 
and  either  growls  at  the  tiger,  or  barks  back  at  the 
whelps  and  "  whiffets"  that  follow,  and  yell  and 
yelp  along  his  path. 

Where  the  public  have  no  interest  in  being  de- 
ceived— ^where  their  passions  and  prejudices  are  not 
embarked,  slander  seldom  needs  any  other  refuta- 
tion than  that  furnished  in  the  spirit  of  its  author. 
But  will  the  public  always  be  impartial  ?  Can  their 
candour  always  be  relied  on?  No  :  party-spirit,  po- 
litical prejudice,  "  sectarian  zeal,"  and  self-righteous 
bigotry,  often  blind  the  eyes  of  men  to  justice,  and 
stop  their  ears  to  truth.  But  when  this  is  the  case — 
when  prejudice,  and  bigotry,  and  passion  are  called 
into  action,  a  wise  man  will  hardly  expect,  by  apology, 
by  argument,  by  explanation,  to  stop  their  progress. 
Expect  to  stop  their  progress  by  apology,  by  argu- 
ment, by  explanation  !  You  might  as  well  expect 
to  tame  the  lightnings ;  to  confine  the  tempest,  or 
lash  the  maddened  ocean  to  submission.  No : 
rather  stand  in  silent  confidence  ;  let  the  storm  pass 
\>y^  and  wait  the  returning  calm  of  reason. 


REVENGE.  53 

Moreover,  our  enemies,  uncandid  as  they  may 
be,  often  declare  the  truth  of  us — and  truth  which 
our  friends  would  be  likely  to  conceal  Their  state- 
ments, however  disingenuous,  may  therefore  be  im- 
proved to  our  advantage  if  we  have  magnanimity 
to  examine  them  impartially,  and  humility  to  correct 
the  errors  which  occasioned,  or,  at  least,  counte- 
nanced what  we  may  deem  invective.  But  the  mo- 
ment we  put  ourselves  on  the  defensive — the  mo- 
ment we  become  apologists  for  our  faults — that  mo- 
ment we  become  blinded  and  wedded  to  them. 

Nor  is  this  all.  We  cannot  enter  the  lists  of  in- 
vidious controversy  without  placing  our  peace  of 
mind  in  jeopardy.  Revenge,  even  in  a  war  of 
words,  cannot  be  indulged  with  impunity.  A  spark 
of  it  is  never  smitten  from  the  flinty  heart  without 
kindling  the  fire  of  hell,  which  it  is  in  vain  to  hope 
will  remain  unextinguished  in  the  bosom  without 
consuming  it.  The  boiling  fury  of  resentment 
scalds  the  heart  from  which  it  is  poured  out.  When 
an  enemy  imparts  to  you  his  gall,  when  he  provokes 
you  to  recriminate,  then  it  is  that  he  may  claim  vic- 
tory ;  for  he  has  torn  away  your  shield,  and  your 
happiness  lies  naked  to  his  scorpion  sting.  What, 
then,  shall  you  do?  Retire  into  the  sanctuary  of 
your  own  integrity ;  and  while  the  enemy  of  your 
peace  struts,  and  roars,  and  swells,  and  foams  around 
you,  remote  in  your  feelings  from  the  tumult  he  oc- 
casions, enjoy  the  holy  calm  of  forgiving  mercy : 
recollecting  that  he  who  is  slow  to  anger  is  better 
than  the  mighttj  ;  and  he  that  nileth  his  spirit  than 
he  that  iaheih  a  city 


54  CONDUCT    TO    ENEMIES. 

You  will  not  construe  this  advice  into  an  encour- 
agement to  that  haughty,  self-confident  demeanour, 
which  indicates  insensibility  to  praise,  and  contempt 
for  the  opinions  and  censures  of  the  world.  It  is 
in  virtue's  self,  and  not  the  affectation  of  virtue, 
that  true  greatness  lies.  I  never  see  a  man  tran- 
quil under  injuries,  and  candid  and  ingenuous  to- 
wards enemies,  but  his  character  rises  in  my  estima- 
tion, and  I  pay  to  him  a  voluntary  homage.  Nor  do 
I  ever  see  one  vindictive,  railing  at  his  enemies,  cry- 
ing down  their  talents,  affecting  to  despise  their 
opinions,  and  to  regard  their  censures  only  as  the 
idle  wind,  but,  in  the  act  of  doing  this,  his  character 
suffers  degradation.  This  is  the  language  of  wound- 
ed pride,  intended,  indeed,  to  conceal,  but  which,  in 
fact,  discovers  most  effectually  the  chagrin  which  is 
felt  and  the  vexation  which  is  suffered.  In  ques- 
tions that  affect  yourselves  or  that  affect  your  en- 
emies, as  on  every  other  occasion,  be  candid. 

If  you  have  taken  a  wrong  position,  abandon  it : 
if  you  have  committed  an  error,  correct  it ;  but  if 
your  conscience  is  satisfied  with  the  part  you  have 
acted  or  the  duty  you  have  performed,  tranquil  and 
self-possessed,  abide  the  issue.  If  an  enemy  revile 
you,  revile  not  in  return  :  if  that  enemy  have  talents, 
honour  them  ;  and  if  he  merits  respect,  render  it 
unto  him.  Favour  his  interests,  deal  gently  with 
his  failings,  shield  his  fame.  Do  even  more  than 
this.  If  he  be  in  affliction,  sympathize  with  him  ; 
if  he  be  poor,  feed  him ;  if  naked,  clothe  him,  and 
let  his  loins  be  tturmed  with  the  fleeces  of  your  flock; 
and  as  for  the  injury  you  may  have  suffered,  nobly 


UNBECOMING    CONDUCT    IN    MINISTERS.      55 

forgive  it,  and  pray  God  that  it  may  be  forgiven. 
By  so  doing  you  will  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his 
head  :  coals  not  to  consume,  but  to  melt  him  into 
righteousness.  This,  ihis^  if  I  may  speak  so,  is  the 
most  effectual  and  the  only  laudable  revenge. 

Particularly,  should  any  of  you  enter  the  sacred 
ministry,  let  me  enjoin  on  you  this  conduct. 

Never  do  haughty  egotism,  captious  animadver- 
sion, and  acrimonious  rebuke  appear  so  unsightly 
as  in  the  minister  charged  from  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus  with  an  embassy  of  peace.  And  yet,  alas  I 
unsightly  as  these  appear,  we  are  sometimes  com- 
pelled, with  regret  and  sorrow,  to  behold  them. 

A  particular  profession  or  pursuit  does  not  alter 
the  nature  of  the  human  passions,  but  only  gives  to 
them  a  different  direction.  The  wrath  of  Paul  was 
as  deadly  as  that  of  Herod.  The  one  assassinated 
out  of  complaisance  to  a  giddy  girl,  the  other  per- 
secuted for  conscience'  sake.  This  circumstance, 
however,  made  no  difference  to  the  wretched  victims 
whom  his  malignant  zeal  pursued  to  death. 

Under  the  cover  of  religion,  men  perhaps  more 
frequently  indulge  the  bitterness  of  passion  without 
compunction  than  in  any  other  situation.  The 
wretch  who  wantonly,  and  without  some  ^^  salvo  to 
his  conscience,"  attacks  private  character,  feels  self- 
condemned.  But  the  sour,  sanctimonious,  grace- 
hardened  bigot  embarks  all  his  pride,  gratifies  all  his 
revenge,  and  empties  his  corroded  bosom  of  its  gall, 
and,  having  done  so,  smooths  over  the  distorted 
features  of  a  countenance  on  which  sits  the  smile 
of  Judas,  and  says,  and  half  believes,  that  he  has 
done  God  service. 


56       UNBECOMING  CONDUCT  IN  MINISTERS. 

The  proud,  ambitious,  arrogant  clergyman  takes 
his  stand  in  the  church  with  the  same  views  that  the 
proud,  arrogant,  and  ambitious  statesman  takes  his 
in  the  world. 

Is  self-aggrandizement  the  motive  of  the  latter? 
so  it  is  of  the  former.  And  this  is  to  be  sought  in 
pursuits  and  studies  which  ought,  above  all  others, 
to  sweeten  the  temper  and  humble  the  pride  of  man. 
But  these  studies  and  pursuits,  where  grace  is  not 
interposed,  do  not  alter  human  nature.  The  arch 
casuist  soon,  indeed,  acquires  a  zeal  for  religion,  but 
it  is  cruel :  he  learns  to  contend  for  the  faith,  but 
he  contends  with  acrimony  ;  and  even  the  cross,  the 
sacred  symbol  of  his  Saviour's  sufferings,  is  borne 
about  with  him  as  an  ostentatious  emblem  of  his 
own  humility.  His  own  creed  is  the  standard  of 
doctrine,  his  own  church  is  the  exclusive  asylum  of 
faith.  He  fancies  that  he  possesses,  solus  in  solo^ 
all  the  orthodoxy,  all  the  erudition,  all  the  taste  of 
the  kingdom  ;  and  swaggering,  like  Jupiter  on  the 
top  of  Olympus,  he  seats  himself  as  sole  umpire  in 
all  matters  of  faith,  of  fact,  of  science.  If  any  one 
dares  to  pass  the  boundary  he  has  fixed,  or  to  adopt 
a  mode  of  expression  he  has  not  authorized,  he 
brands  him  with  the  appellation  of  heretic,  and  in- 
stantly hurls  at  his  devoted  head  a  thunderbolt. 

If  an  individual  stands  in  his  way,  and  particular- 
ly if  that  individual  possesses  an  influence  which 
he  envies,  or  fills  a  place  which  he  covets,  he  marks 
him  as  his  victim.  The  sacrifice,  however,  must 
be  orthodoxly  performed,  and  attended  with  all  the 
external  forms  of  sanctity.     To  prepare  the  way  for 


UNBECOMING  CONDUCT  IN  MINISTERS.       57 

this,  disingenuous  insinuations  are  thrown  out  against 
the  hated  object ;  his  sentiments  are  nmisstated,  his 
language  is  perverted,  and  his  performances  are  dis- 
sected and  combined  anew,  and  held  up  in  opposi- 
tion to  sound  doctrine,  in  order  to  awaken  jealousies, 
to  weaken  the  confidence,  and  steal  away  the  affec- 
tion of  his  Christian  friends. 

In  the  mean  time,  and  the  more  effectually  to 
conceal  the  ultimate  design,  the  sacred  names  of 
friendship,  of  sincerity,  of  candour,  are  flung  around 
the  devoted  individual,  like  the  garlands  with  which 
the  pagans  covered  the  victim  they  had  selected  for 
the  altar.  Profession  swells  on  profession :  a  sense 
of  duty,  a  love  of  truth,  and  even  thy  glory,  God 
of  mercy,  is  declared  by  the  insatiate  executioner  to 
govern  him,  while  he  feels  at  the  moment  the  malice 
of  hell  rankling  in  his  bosom,  and  dips  his  pen  in 
the  venom  of  the  damned.  The  assault,  indeed,  is 
conducted  under  the  banner  of  Jesus  Christ.  But 
it  is  immaterial  whether  it  be  the  banner  of  Jesus  or 
Mohammed.  A  proud,  haughty,  persecuting  spirit, 
wherever  and  in  whomsoever  found,  would  transform 
the  mild  accents  of  heavenly  grace  to  execrations, 
and  steep  as  soon  the  Evangelists  as  the  Alcoran 
in  blood.  To  the  victim  who  is  sacrificed  to  pride 
or  arrogance,  it  matters  not  whether  the  ceremony 
be  performed  on  the  scaffold  or  at  the  altar. 

You  may  imagine  that  there  is  no  occasion  for 
cautioning  those  entering  the  sacred  ministry  against 
such  a  temper  in  themselves,  or  to  instruct  them 
how  to  meet  it  in  others.  But  if  you  so  imagine, 
it  is  because  you  know  httle  of  yourselves  or  of 


58       UNBECOMING   CONDUCT  IN  MINISTERS. 

others.  There  is  among  Christians,  and  even  among 
Christian  ministers  (alas  !  tiiat  it  should  be  so),  a 
rebuke  that  blasts  and  a  zeal  that  consumes.  Do 
you  not  remember  who  they  were  that  preferred  the 
sanguinary  request  even  to  Jesus  Christ  in  person, 
whether  they  should  not  command  fire  to  come 
down  from  heaven,  and  consume  a  whole  village  of 
Samaritans,  because  they  had  treated  them  less  ur- 
banely than  they  expected  ?  And  do  you  not  also 
remember  the  mild,  the  heavenly,  the  endearing,  and 
yet  pointed  rebuke  he  gave  them — rejecting  their  pro- 
posal, and  disclaiming  the  spirit  which  produced  it? 
Do  you  not  remember  the  anathemas  which  have 
been  uttered,  and  the  gibbets  which  have  been  erect- 
ed, by  ecclesiastical  authority  ?  Ah  !  had  the  spirit 
of  the  world  never  pervaded  the  sacerdotal  order, 
the  saints  would  not  so  often  have  been  compelled 
to  famish  in  dungeons  or  wander  in  exile. 

Human  nature  is  the  same  now  as  formerly  ;  and 
happy  will  you  be  should  you  never,  even  within  the 
pale  of  the  Christian  church,  experience  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  wrath  of  man.  Happy  will  you  be 
should  you  receive  no  wound  in  the  house  of  your 
own  and  your  Saviour's  friends — should  you  always 
find  in  them  the  same  meek,  humble,  unassuming 
goodness — the  same  sincerity  of  friendship,  the 
same  celestial  charity  and  gentleness  of  rebuke 
which  appeared  in  him.  But  should  it  be  other- 
wise ;  should  you,  where  you  least  expect  it,  meet 
with  envy,  with  treachery,  with  invective,  be  neither 
surprised  nor  disturbed  at  it. 

In  the  church  as  in  the  world,  you  will  form  your 


UNBECOM  ING   CONDUCT  IN  MINISTERS.       59 

own  character ;  nor  can  your  enemies  prevent  it. 
Their  calumny  will  injure  you  less  than  you  imagine. 
The  theological  calumniator,  however  muffled  up  in 
the  habiliments  of  piety,  and  notwithstanding  all  the 
parade  he  may  make  of  candour,  impartiality,  and  a 
sense  of  duty,  will  be  much  more  successful  in  de- 
ceiving himself  than  in  deceiving  the  world.  No 
matter  how  loudly  he  vociferates  the  glory  of  God, 
while  his  movements  evince  that  he  is  seeking  ex- 
clusively his  own  glory.  However  disguised,  the 
real  temper  of  his  heart  will  discover  itself;  his  in- 
sidious calumny  will  be  referred  to  the  proper  mo- 
live,  and  his  wounded  pride  will  be  seen  scowling 
vengeance  from  behind  the  tattered  mantle  of  hy- 
pocrisy which  is  interposed  to  cover  it.  Community 
will  not  be  brow-beaten  into  a  surrendry  of  their  in- 
dependence to  the  insolent  pretensions  of  any  indi- 
vidual ;  and  the  self-puffing  censor,  who  aims  at 
being  universal  umpire,  will  have  the  mortification 
to  see  that  public,  on  whom  he  looks  down  with  su- 
percilious contempt,  instead  of  placing  implicit  con- 
fidence in  his  decrees,  examining  and  deciding  for 
themselves.  He  will  have  the  mortification  to  see 
the  very  individuals  whom  he  has  denounced  and 
marked  for  the  grave,  still  living  unhurt  in  the  midst 
of  execrations,  which  produce  no  efTect  except  to 
burn  and  blister  the  lips  that  utter  them  ;  and  though 
it  were  more  in  character  for  such  an  intellectual 
Goliah  to  curse  his  opponents  in  the  name  of  Dagon 
than  in  that  of  Jesus,  yet,  should  he  adopt  the  latter 
(making  the  gospel  the  vehicle  of  scandal,  and  sea- 
soning the  doctrines  of  grace  with  malice),  still  re- 


60  FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

member  that  you  have  not  so  learned  Christ;  wko 
forbids  you  to  give  place  to  the  devil,  and  commands 
you,  putting  away  lying,  to  speak  every  man  truth 
with  his  neighbour.  Let  not  the  subtility  of  an  ad* 
versary  beguile  you  into  the  spirit  of  the  world,  nor 
the  rudeness  of  his  attack  provoke  you  to  use  in 
your  defence  the  weapons  of  the  world.  These  ill 
befit  a  Christian  :  these  are  not  his  armory.  It  was 
Abishai,  not  David,  who  proposed  to  go  over  and 
take  off  the  head  of  Shimei  that  cursed  him. 

It  is  not  the  prostration  of  an  enemy,  but  the  for- 
'  giveness  of  him,  that  evinces  a  Divine  filiation,  and 
conducts  to  the  noblest  victory  :  not  perhaps  the 
noblest  in  the  esfimation  of  partial  friends,  who,  irri* 
tated  by  insult,  wish  to  see  you  thrash  an  adver-- 
sary  :  not  in  the  estimation  of  men  of  honour,  who 
account  it  magnanimous  to  avenge  an  injury.  But 
are  these  the  real  judges  of  true  greatness  ?  or  are 
you  influenced  by  the  multitude  1  Whom,  then,  call 
you  the  multitude  ?  The  pigmies  on  this  litde  planet 
who  surround  you,  or  the  principalities,  and  powers, 
and  thrones,  and  dominions,  and  all  those  orders  of 
perfect  beings  who  throng  the  heavens,  and  fill  the 
house  of  God's  almightiness  ?  Behold  the  thou- 
sands of  thousands  who  minister  unto  him,  and  the 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  who  stand  before 
him !  In  the  estimation  of  these  just  appraisers  of 
things,  which,  think  you,  is  deemed  more  godlike,  to 
forgive  an  injury  or  to  avenge  it  1  Seeing,  therefore, 
you  are  compassed  about  by  so  great  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,  lay  aside  all  malice,  and  that  wrath  that 
will  so  easily  beset  you ;  and  on  this  article  as  ev- 


CHARACTER    OF    CHRIST.  61 

ery  other,  look  with  steady  eye  to  Jesus  Christ,  the 
author  and  finisher  of  your  faith.  Had  he — pardon, 
exaUed  .Mediator,  pattern  of  perfection,  this  deroga- 
ting supposition,  made  with  reverential  awe,  and  to 
exalt  thy  clemency — had  he  engaged  in  a  single 
duel,  or  partook  in  one  revengeful  contest — but  he 
did  not.  Whatever  is  endearing  in  goodness  or 
touching  in  mercy,  collected  into  one  assemblage, 
forms  his  character ;  a  character  on  which  arro- 
gance has  not  cast  a  shade  or  envy  fixed  a  stain : 
a  character  splendid  with  virtues,  which  render  pov- 
erty venerable  and  humility  august.  That  great 
Exemplar  of  righteousness,  the  purity  of  whose  life 
bafl[led  the  scrutiny  of  malice,  and  compelled  that 
bloodstained  wretch,  who  had  often  sported  with  the 
rights  of  innocence,  to  exclaim,  "  I  find  no  fault  in 
the  man,"  how  did  he  meet  injuries,  and  what  was 
his  demeanour  towards  his  enemies  1 

Mark  his  entrance  into  Jerusalem,  that  city  black- 
ened by  crime  and  steeped  in  the  blood  of  martyrs. 
From  the  Mount  of  Olives  it  opened  to  his  view  ; 
at  which  sad  sight  he  wept — wept,  not  over  friends, 
but  enemies  ;  enemies  who  had  rejected,  vilified,  per- 
secuted him  ;  and  who  were  still  waiting,  with  fiend- 
like impatience,  to  wreak  their  vengeance  on  his 
person,  and  quench  their  malice  in  his  blood.  Nor 
is  this  a  solitary  instance  of  benignity.  Trace  his 
paths  from  Bethlehem  to  Calvary,  and  you  will  find 
him  everywhere  meek,  humble, long-suffering.  Sur- 
rounded by  adversaries,  and  called  to  meet  calumny 
and  persecution,  he  supoorted  his  matchless  clem- 


62  DEATH    OF    CHKIST. 

ency  to  the  end  ;  and  left  the  world  good  above 
conception,  great  beyond  comparison. 

From  the  toils  and  trials  of  a  distressing  but  per- 
fect life,  follow  this  illustrious  personage  to  the  place 
of  death.  Approach  his  cross,  and  fix  your  atten- 
tion on  the  prodigies  which  signalize  his  sufferings, 
and  stamp  divinity  on  his  martyrdom !  Think  not 
that  I  allude  to  the  terrific  drapery  which  in  that 
dread  hour  was  flung  around  the  great  theatre  of 
nature.  No  :  'tis  not  the  darkened  sun,  the  burst- 
ing tombs,  the  quaking  mountains,  or  the  trembUng 
world  that  I  allude  to  !  These  indeed  are  prodi- 
gies ;  but  these  vanish  before  the  still  greater  prod- 
igies of  meekness,  humiHty,  and  sin-forgiving  good- 
ness displayed  in  the  dying  Saviour.  When  I  be- 
hold him,  amid  the  last  agonies  of  dissolving  nature, 
raising  his  dying  eyes  to  heaven,  and,  forgetful  of 
himself,  interceding  with  the  God  of  mercy  with  his 
last  breath,  and  from  his  very  cross,  in  behalf  of 
those  wretches  whose  insatiable  malice  had  fixed 
him  there — then  it  is  that  the  evidence  of  his  claims 
rises  to  demonstration,  and  I  feel  the  resistless  force 
of  that  impassioned  exclamation,  which  burst  from 
the  lips  of  infidelity  itself,  "  If  Socrates  died  as  a 
philosopher,  Jesus  Christ  died  as  a  God !" 

And  shall  a  worm  covered  with  crimes,  and  living 
on  sufferance  in  that  same  world  where  the  agoni- 
zing Saviour  uttered  his  dying  suppHcation,  and  left 
his  dying  example  for  imitation — shall  such  a  worm, 
tumid  with  resentment,  lift  his  proud  crest  to  his 
fellow- worm,  and,  incapable  of  mercy,  talk  of  retri- 
bution ]     No  :  blessed  Jesus,  thy  death  is  an  anti- 


A   FORGIVING    SPIRIT.  63 

dote  to  vengeance.  At  the  foot  of  thy  cross  I  meet 
my  enemies,  I  forget  their  injuries,  I  bury  my  re- 
venge, and  learn  to  forgive  those  who  have  done  me 
wrong,  as  I  also  hope  to  be  forgiven  of  thee. 

Almighty  God,  give  us  grace  to  do  this,  and  io 
thy  name  shall  be  the  glory. 


64  REASON    AND    REVELATION. 

IV. 

DELIVERED  JULY    26,   1809. 

[Two  opposite  Systems  offered  to  our  acceptance,  the  one 
founded  on  Human  Reason,  the  other  on  Divine  Revelation. — 
Man,  by  his  own  wisdom,  never  has,  nor  ever  can  have,  a 
true  and  proper  conception  of  God. — Contradictory,  false,  and 
unworthy  notions  entertained  by  the  wisest  of  the  ancients 
in  regard  to  the  nature  and  attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
their  confused  and  erroneous  ideas  as  to  Virtue  and  Vice, 
and  the  gross  immorality  of  their  Lives. — The  appearance 
of  Christianity  in  the  World  dispelled  the  darkness  and  de- 
lusion that  had  before  universally  prevailed,  and  brought  in  a 
new  era  of  Light,  and  Hope,  and  of  pure  and  perfect  Mor- 
als.— The  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  Christian  System  soon 
corrupted  by  being  incorporated  with  the  errors  of  ancient 
Philosophy. — Modern  Infidelity,  and  the  pernicious  and  ab- 
surd Doctrines  on  which  it  is  founded.— Skeptical  System  of 
Hume  (see  Note). — Infidelity  and  Christianity,  in  their  Char- 
acter, Moral  Effects,  and  ultimate  Results,  contrasted. — The 
Christian  alone  can  have  hope  in  Death,  and  assurance  of  a 
blessed  Immortality. 

Young  gentlemen,  this  day  we  resign  our  charge, 
and  you  become  tlia  ^nasters  of  your  fortune.  For 
the  future,  two  opposite  systems  will  offer  you  their 
guidance  and  proffer  you  their  rewards.  On  the 
one  hand,  human  reason ;  on  the  other.  Divine  revela^ 
tion.  Which  shall  be  the  object  of  your  choice  ? 
Consider  well  the  prerogatives  cif  each,  and  then 
determine. 

Man  is  a  created  being,  and  therefore  dependant 
Neither  self-government  nor  self-guidance  befits 
him.  Unreserved  submission  to  the  will  of  his  Crea- 
tor is,  and  must  for  ever  be,  the  law  of  his  nature. 
The  first  instance  of  departure  from  this  law  was  the 


WEAKNESS    OF    HUMAN    REASON.  65 

speculation  indulged  by  the  misguided  parent  of  our 
race  upon  the  tree  of  knowledge.  You  recollect  the 
fatal  incident.  You  have  tasted,  and  still  taste,  the 
bitter  consequences.  One  rash  conclusion,  drawn 
in  opposition  to  the  revealed  will  of  God,  was  the 
inceptive  step  to  apostacy,  and  issued  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  world.  Six  thousand  years  have  elapsed 
since  this  catastrophe,  during  which,  in  every  na- 
tion, reason  has  asserted  its  claims  and  opened  its 
schools,  but  nowhere  has  it  done  anything  to  re- 
cover its  fallen  glory.  Not  a  beam  of  light  has  it 
shed  on  that  moral  durkness  which  enshrouds  the 
world.  The  nations  whom  faith  guides  not,  still 
grope  benighted  ;  and  all  the  efforts  of  their  sages 
only  prove  that  this  world  by  ivisdom  hioios  not  God. 
And  how  should  this  world  by  wisdom  know  him  ? 
To  deduce  the  character  and  design  of  a  workman 
from  his  workman  hip,  the  entire  fabric  which  he 
has  constructed  must  be  understood.  But  of  all 
that  Omnipotence  hath  done,  we  have  seen  a  small 
part  only ;  and  that  part  we  comprehend  not,  or, 
at  most,  but  imperfectly  comprehend.  How  pre- 
posterous for  a  being  who  yesterday  emerged  from 
the  dust,  and  to-morrow  will  return  to  dust  again,  to 
pretend,  by  searching  to  find  out  God,  or  by  re- 
searching  to  find  out  the  Mnighty  to  perfection. 
What  homage  he  requires  of  us  ;  whether  he  is  pro- 
pitious or  inex  >rable  to  sinners  ;  or,  if  propitious, 
in  what  way?  These  are  questions  that  philosophy 
agitates  only  to  darken.  It  mock-?  with  delusive 
and  conjectural  answers  the  interrogatories  of  the 
dying  sinner,  and  the  foundation  which  it  lays  to 
F 


66  PHILOSOPHY. 

sustain  his  immortal  hopes  is  as  faithless  and  insuffi- 
cient as  hay,  wood,  and  stubble  would  be  for  the 
base  of  a  pyramid.  The  more  ingenuous  of  the 
pagans  acknowledge  their  weakness  and  deplore 
their  ignorance.  At  Athens,  the  seat  of  science, 
there  stood  an  altar  inscribed,  confessedly,  to  the 
unknown  God;  and  even  that  prince  of  philoso- 
phers, Socrates  himself,  wavered  and  hesitated  at 
the  moment  of  his  death.  Others  indeed  there 
have  been,  less  humble  than  Socrates,  who  have 
dared  to  pronounce  upon  the  character  of  God  and 
the  chief  good  of  man.  But  the  systems  which 
imbody  their  dogmas  are  now  known  only  as  mon- 
uments of  human  weakness  or  of  human  wicked- 
ness. 

Do  you  wish  for  proof  of  this  ? — the  schools  of 
philosophy  will  furnish  it. 

That  the  world  arose  from  chance,  and  that  the 
providence  of  God  does  not  extend  to  it ;  that  sen- 
sual pleasure  constitutes  the  supreme  good,  and  that 
virtue  for  its  own  sake  is  unworthy  of  esteem  or 
choice,  were  doctrines  of  the  Epicureans. 

That  it  is  impossible  to  arrive  at  truth ;  that  the 
existence  of  God  is  doubtful ;  that  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  is  doubtful ;  that  whether  virtue  is  pref- 
erable to  vice  is  doubtful,  were  doctrines  of  the 
Academics. 

Aristotle  taught,  that  God,  though  happy  in  him- 
self, was  regardless  of  the  happiness  and  indiffer- 
ent to  the  virtue  of  man.  The  Stoics,  that  God 
was  under  the  control  of  fate.  The  Persian  phi- 
losophers, that  there  was  not  one  God,  but  two — 


CHARACTER  OF  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHERS.        67 

coequal,  coeternal,  and  with  opposite  characters  and 
interests. 

It  was  not  illustrious  virtues,  but  egregious  crimes, 
that  signalized  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  Greece 
and  Rome.  Hence  that  degeneracy  of  manners 
which  became  so  universal.  A  father,  without  re- 
proach, might  adopt  or  abandon  his  infant  child. 
The  massacre  of  slaves  formed  a  customary  part 
of  the  funeral  solemnity.  For  having  asserted  the 
rights  and  defended  the  liberties  of  their  country, 
prisoners  of  war  were  crucified.  Unnatural  lust 
was  sanctioned  by  high  authority,  and  even  public 
brothels  were  consecrated  as  an  act  of  religious 
worship. 

This  degeneracy  was  the  natural  result  of  their 
philosophy.  Zeno  had  taught  them  that  all  crimes 
were  equal.  Cleanthes,  that  children  might  devour 
their  parents  ;  and  Diogenes,  that  parents  might  de- 
vour their  children.  Plato,  that  lewdness  was  jus- 
tifiable ;  and  even  Cicero,  that  it  was  only  a  venial 
fault.  The  lives  of  the  philosophers  corresponded 
with  their  doctrines  ;  nor  were  their  examples  less 
infamous  than  their  dogmas.  If  Plutarch  can  be 
believed,  both  Socrates  and  Plato  were  intemperate 
and  incontinent.  Nor  was  the  character  of  Seneca 
less  execrable,  if  Dion  Cassius  can  be  believed. 
Xenophon  was  a  sodomite.  Aristippus  kept  a  se- 
raglio, and  Zeno  murdered  himself.  Such  was  the 
wisdom  of  philosophy ;  such  were  the  examples  it 
furnished  ;  such  the  morals  it  inculcated. 

In  the  midst  of  this  night  of  pagan  darkness  the 
Sun  of  righteousness  burst   upon  the  world.     As 


68    CHRISTIANITY  CORRUPTED  BY  PHILOSOPHY. 

from  a  long  and  deathlike  slumber,  the  nations 
awoke  to  behold  its  splendours.  A  new  er-a  com- 
menced. The  unlettered  apostle  delivered  his  art- 
less narrative,  and  the  omnipotence  of  truth  was 
felt.  Kingdom  followed  kingdom  in  making  their 
submissions,  till  at  length  the  new  religion  was  es- 
tablished throughout  the  Roman  empire. 

Christianity  was  now  in  prosperity.  Philosophy 
therefore  courted  her  alliance.  It  was  granted. 
But  did  either  faith  or  morals  gain  by  the  conces- 
sion 1  No  :  on  the  contrary,  morals  were  subverted 
and  faith  bewildered  by  those  mystic  mazes  through 
which  the  Gnostic  teachers  led  their  hearers.  The 
gospel,  thus  adulterated  by  those  unhallowed  ingre- 
dients which  philosophy  mixed  with  it,  lost  its  char- 
acteristic influence.  The  simplicity  of  truth  disap- 
peared ;  the  fervour  of  piety  disappeared  ;  a  spirit 
of  dogmatizing  ensued,  and  the  minds  of  men  were 
gradually  prepared,  by  perplexing  and  contradictory 
theories,  for  that  profound  indifference  to  truth,  that 
absolute  lethargy  of  mind,  which  characterized  the 
dark  ages. 

When,  however,  the  Peripatetic  philosophy  was 
superseded  by  the  Cartesian,  this  unnatural  alliance 
was  dissolved.  Then  reason,  abjuring  that  faith 
which  it  had  courted  and  corrupted,  under  the  name 
of  infidelity  commenced  a  new  era. 

To  detail  the  systems  of  Herbert,  Hobbes, 
Shaftesbury,  Wollaston,  Tindal,  Chubb,  and  Boling- 
broke,  would  be  as  tedious  as  unedifying  :  suffice 
it  to  say,  that  the  reign  of  reason  was  the  jubilee  of 
sinners.     Every    important    duty    was    weakened ; 


MODERN  INFIDELS.  69 

every  detestable  crime  was  palliated  by  some  one  or 
other  of  these  new  apostles.  Each  contested  the 
palm  of  having  contributed  most  towards  subverting 
the  morals  and  unsettling  the  opinions  of  mankind. 
Amid  this  galaxy  of  malignant  stars,  Hume  arose, 
in  whose  sickly  light  all  things  appeared  dim  and 
doubtful.  Real  life  vanished  ;  the  material  universe 
vanished  ;  the  souls  of  men  vanished  ;  and  spectres 
only  flitted  through  the  brain.  To  whom  the  award 
was  due  it  was  no  longer  doubtful.  Even  his  com- 
petitors stood  amazed  at  the  bolder  march  of  his 
genius,  who,  by  one  mighty  eff<)rt,  subverted  both  his 
own  and  all  other  systems,  and  reached  at  once  the 
point  of  universal  skepticism.* 

*  What  illumination  was  shed  on  the  science  of  unbelief  by 
this  great  master  of  negations,  can  be  known  only  by  the  peru- 
sal of  his  writings.  To  those  who  have  not  access  to  those  wri- 
tings, the  following  summary  (the  fidelity  of  which,  Bishop 
Horn  says,  was  never,  so  far  as  he  could  find,  questioned)  may 
serve  as  a  specimen. 

OF    THE    SOUL. 

That  the  soul  of  man  is  not  the  same  this  moment  that  it 
was  the  last ;  tiiat  we  know  not  what  it  is  ;  that  it  is  not  one 
thing,  but  many  things  ;  and  that  it  is  nothing  at  all.  That  in 
this  soul  is  the  agency  of  all  the  causes  that  operate  throughout 
the  sensible  creation ;  and  yet,  that  in  this  soul  there  is  neither 
power  nor  agency,  nor  any  idea  of  either. 

That  matter  and  motion  may  often  be  regarded  as  the  cause 
of  thought. 

OF    THE    UNIVERSE. 

That  the  external  world  does  not  exist,  or  that  its  existence 
may  reasonably  be  doubted. 

That  the  universe  exists  in  the  mind,  and  that  mind  does  not 
exist. 

That  the  universe  is  nothing  but  a  heap  of  perceptions  with- 
out a  substance. 

That  though  a  man  could  bring  himself  to  believe,  yea,  and 
have  reason  to  believe,  that  everything  in  the  universe  proceod.^ 


70  SENTIMENTS  OF  HUME. 

Philosophy  had  to  make  but  a  single  advance 
more  to  reach  its  ultimatum.     That  advance  it  has 

from  some  cause,  yet  it  would  be  unreasonable  for  him  to  be- 
lieve that  the  universe  itself  proceeds  from  some  cause. 

OF    HUMAN   KNOVi^LEDGE. 

That  the  perfection  of  human  knowledge  is  to  doubt. 

That  we  ought  to  doubt  of  everything,  yea,  of  our  doubts 
tnemselves ;  and,  therefore,  the  utmost  that  philosophy  can  do 
is  to  give  a  doubtful  solution  of  doubtful  doubts. 

That  the  human  understanding,  acting  alone,  does  entirely 
subvert  itself,  and  prove  by  argument  that  by  argument  no 
thing  can  be  proved. 

That  man,  in  all  his  perceptions,  actions,  and  volitions,  is  a 
mere  passive  machine,  and  has  no  separate  existence  of  his 
own,  being  entirely  made  up  of  other  things,  of  the  existence 
of  which  he  is  by  no  means  certain  ;  and  yet  the  nature  of  all 
things  depends  so  much  upon  man,  that  two  and  two  could  not 
produce  four,  nor  lire  produce  heat,  nor  the  sun  light,  without 
«n  act  of  the  human  understanding. 


That  it  is  unreasonable  to  believe  God  to  be  infinitely  wise 
and  good  while  there  is  any  evil  or  disorder  in  the  universe. 

That  we  have  no  good  reason  to  think  the  universe  proceeds 
from  a  cause. 

That,  as  the  existence  of  the  external  world  is  questionable, 
we  are  at  a  loss  to  find  arguments  by  which  we  may  prove  the 
existence  of  the  Supreme  Being,  or  any  of  his  attributes. 

That  when  we  speak  of  power  as  an  attribute  of  any  being, 
God  himself  not  excepted,  we  use  words  without  meaning. 

That  we  can  form  no  idea  of  power,  nor  any  being  endued 
with  power,  much  less  one  endued  with  supreme  power;  and 
that  we  can  never  have  reason  to  believe  that  any  object,  or 
quality  of  any  object  exists,  of  which  we  cannot  form  an  idea. 

OF  THE  MORALITY  OP  HUMAN  ACTIONS. 

That  every  human  action  is  necessary,  and  could  not  have 
been  different  from  what  it  is. 

That  moral,  intellectual,  and  corporeal  virtues  are  nearly  of 
the  same  kind.  In  other  words,  that  to  want  honesty,  to  want 
understanding,  and  to  want  a  leg,  are  equally  the  objects  of 
moral  disapprobation. 

That  adultery  must  be  practised  if  man  would  acquire  all  the 
advantages  of  life  ;  that,  if  generally  practised,  it  would  in  time 


INFIDEL   EXAMPLE    OF   FKANCE.  71 

Since  made,  passing  by  an  easy  and  natural  transi- 
tion from  wavering  skepticism  to  confirmed  atheism. 
A  great  nation,  energized  by  the  doctrines  of  its  sa- 
pient declaimers  against  God  and  nature,  has  arisen 
in  its  strength,  and  shaken  off  the  restraints  of  moral 
obhgation,  as  the  toiled  lion  shakes  from  his  mane 
the  devvdrops  of  the  morning.  By  a  solemn  de- 
cree, Jehovah  has  been  banished  from  his  empire 
and  his  throne  ;  the  universe  absolved  from  its  alle- 
giance ;  the  earth  converted  into  one  vast  common, 
and  the  men  and  women  who  inhabit  it  turned  out 
like  cattle  to  herd  together.  By  a  solemn  decree, 
too,  the  soul  has  been  deprived  of  immortahty  ;  and, 
lest  the  sepulchre  should  permit  the  bodies  it  impris- 
ons to  escape,  death  has  been  declared  by  law  to  be 
everlasting  sleep. 

But  let  us  turn  from  this  lunacy  of  the  schools, 
these  ravings  of  distempered  minds.  Thanks  to  our 
God,  we  are  not  under  the  necessity  of  following 
such  guides.  He  who  formerly  sent  his  prophets 
to  enlighten  mankind,  has  in  these  last  ages  spoken 
to  the  world  by  his  Son.  How  know  we  this  ?  By 
evidence  the  most  indubitable.  In  him  the  proph- 
ecies were  fulfilled  ;  by  him  the  gift  of  healing  was 
dispensed  ;  unheard-of  miracles  sealed  his  commis- 
sion, and  the  doctrines  he  delivered  evinced  that  he 
was  sent  of  God. 

cease  to  be  scandalous  ;  and  that,  if  practised  secretly  and  fre- 
quently, it  would  by  degrees  come  to  be  thought  no  crime  at  all. 
Lastly,  as  the  soul  of  man,  according  to  Mr.  Hume,  becomes 
every  moment  a  different  being,  the  consequence  must  be,  that 
the  crimes  committed  by  him  at  one  time  are  not  imputable  to 
him  at  another. 


72      THE  CHRISTIAN,  PAGAN,  AND  ATHEIST. 

It  is  as  characteristic  of  revelation  to  exalt,  as  it 
is  of  philosophy  to  degrade  human  nature.  The 
unity  and  perfection  of  God  support,  and  are  sup- 
ported in,  every  part  of  this  heaven-descended  sys- 
tem. In  the  hght  of  His  uncreated  glory  whom 
the  Scriptures  reveal,  contemplate  the  obscene  and 
cruel  rabble  of  pagan  divinities.  Beside  the  Chris- 
tian, offering  the  homage  of  his  heart  to  the  author 
of  his  being,  behold  the  Greek,  celebrating  with 
songs  the  lascivious  Pan,  or  the  Roman,  inebriated 
at  the  orgies  of  the  drunken  Bacchus.  But  if  the 
pagan  appears  degraded  in  the  presence  of  the 
Christian,  much  more  does  the  skeptic  and  the  athe- 
ist appear  so.  To  the  one  it  is  God  who  rides 
upon  the  storm  and  directs  the  tempest.  To  the 
other,  the  tumult  of  the  elements  is  the  confusion 
of  chance.  Rich  in  prospect,  the  one  looks  up  to 
immortality,  and  fastens  his  hope  to  the  rock  of  ages. 
The  being  of  the  other  hangs  on  nothing,  and  he 
has  nothing  in  expectancy  but  to  drop  from  life  into 
eternal  non-existence. 

It  was  not  reason,  but  revelation,  that  brought  fu- 
turity to  light ;  that  discovered  an  atonement ;  that 
proved  sin  pardonable,  and  God,  against  whom  it  is 
committed,  propitious. 

The  Bible  is  as  pure  in  its  morals  as  it  is  spirit- 
ual in  its  worship  or  rich  in  its  hopes.  By  its 
sanctifying  influence  thousands  have  been  subdued 
to  holiness  and  raised  to  happiness.  Not  like  the 
bewildering  theories  of  the  schools,  it  speaks  to  the 
conscience,  and  its  influence  is  seen  in  the  life  of 
man.     Were  its  rules  of  acti  jn  observed,  war  would 


CHRISTIANITY  AS  CONNECTED  WITH  MORALS.  73 

cease  ;  injustice  would  cease  ;  and  the  earth  would 
become  an  asylum  of  righteousness.  Of  Christian 
nations,  in  the  strict  and  proper  acceptation  of  the 
term,  we  cannot  speak ;  because  in  this  sense  there 
are  no  Christian  nations.  Here  and  there  only  an 
individual  is  found  whose  character  is  formed  on 
the  model,  and  whose  conduct  is  regulated  by  the 
maxims  of  Christianity.  Small  as  this  number  is, 
they  everywhere  counteract  the  dominion  of  sin,  and 
exert  on  every  community  in  which  they  reside  a 
redeeming  influence.  These  unassuming,  and  often 
obscure  individuals,  sprinkled  like  salt  among  the 
nations,  impart  a  tincture  of  godliness,  which,  though 
it  heals  not,  preserves  the  common  mass  from  putre- 
faction. Hence,  wherever  the  gospel  is  preached, 
the  standard  of  morals  is  raised,  and  public  opinion 
banishes  those  gross  and  brutal  crimes  which  were 
unblushingly  committed  in  pagan  countries.  At 
home  and  abroad  alike  we  see  this  position  verified. 
No  massacre  of  slaves  signalizes  the  death  of  our 
patriots  ;  no  theatre  exhibits  for  the  amusement  of 
our  populace  the  horrid  spectacle  of  lacerated  com- 
batants ;  no  impure  temples  invite  our  youths  to 
lascivious  banquets ;  nor  in  any  part  of  Christen- 
dom does  there  stand  an  altar  for  human  sacrifice. 

But  if  mankind  in  general  are  indebted  to  Chris- 
tianity for  the  amelioration  of  their  condition,  much 
more  are  the  poor  and  the  friendless  indebted  to  it 
for  this.  Of  these  the  Christian  lawgiver  has  taken 
especial  cognizance  ;  for  these  he  has  made  especial 
provision.  To  those  whom  philosophy  disregarded 
is  the  gospel  preached.      More  than  this :  in  that 


74         DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 

gospel  their  rights  are  guarded,  and  relief  is  provided 
for  their  miseries  by  that  celestial  charity  which  it 
inculcates.  How  must  the  heart  susceptible  of  pity 
vibrate  at  the  rehearsal  of  those  words  of  Jesus 
Christ,  uttered  during  his  humiliation,  and  which  he 
will  repeat  when  he  shall  appear  in  his  triumph : 
"  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  father,  inherit  the  king- 
dom prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.  For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me 
meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  ;  I  was 
a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in ;  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  ;  I  was 
in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me  ;"  adding,  "  Inas- 
much as  ye  have  done  this  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  disciples,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 

The  resurrection  of  the  body  is  peculiarly  a  doc- 
trine of  revelation.  Philosophy  shed  no  ligftt  upon 
the  sepulchre.  It  was  not  till  the  star  of  Judah 
arose  that  the  grave  ceased  to  be  dark  and  som- 
brous ;  and  had  he,  whose  goings  forth  were  from 
Bethlehem,  announced  this  single  oracle,  "  Behold, 
the  hour  is  coming  in  which  all  they  that  are  in 
their  graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God, 
and  come  forth  ;  they  that  have  done  good  to  the 
resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  to 
the  resurrection  of  condemnation,"  and  added  no 
more,  his  mission  had  been  deserving  of  that  costly 
exhibition  of  types  which  prefigured,  and  of  mira< 
cles  which  confirmed  it.  How  much  more  so,  then, 
since  it  has  put  not  only  the  question  of  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body,  but  that  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  also  to  rest:  since  it   has  imbodied  th*» 


REASON   AND    REVELATION,  75 

purest  system  of  morals,  the  sublimest  system  of 
doctrines ;  since  it  has  called  into  action  immortal 
virtues,  and  awakened  deathless  hopes.  How  much 
more  so,  since  it  has  held  out  to  righteousness  the 
strongest  of  possible  motives,  and  imposed  on  un- 
righteousness the  strongest  possible  restraints.  To 
the  sinner  it  is  announced,  that,  however  he  may 
escape  punishment  fi-om  man,  the  Lord  our  God 
will  not  suffer  him  to  escape  his  righteous  judg- 
ments :  that,  when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  to 
be  glorified  in  his  saints,  he  will  also  execute  eternal 
vengeance  on  his  enemies. 

In  whatever  light  the  claims  of  these  two  systems 
^vhich  offer  you  their  guidance  are  viewed,  the  odds 
appears  immense. 

Reason  tells  the  parent  of  a  family  that  his  chil- 
dren are  no  better  than  vermin,  and  that  he  is  not 
even  bound  to  rear  them.  Revelation  tells  him 
that  they  are  heaven-descended,  and  that  he  must 
train  them  up  for  glory. 

Reason  tells  the  child  that  gray  hairs  are  a  re- 
proach ;  that  filial  gratitude  is  not  a  virtue ;  and 
that  he  is  at  liberty  to  abandon  his  aged  parents. 
Revelation  tells  him  to  reverence  the  hoary  head ; 
as  he  hopes  for  long  life,  to  honour,  in  the  Lord, 
those  to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  his  being ;  and 
that  the  eye  that  mocketh  at  his  father,  and  refuseth 
to  obey  its  mother,  the  eagle  shall  pick  it  out,  and 
the  young  eagle  shall  eat  it. 

Reason  tells  the  sufferer  that  his  pains  are  im- 
aginary, and,  if  not  imaginary,  that  they  are  irre- 
mediable, and  must  therefore  be  borne  in  hopeless 


76  REASON    AND   REVELATION. 

and  sullen  silence.  Revelation  tells  him  that  they 
are  parental  chastisements,  enduring  but  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  that  ihey  shall  work  out  for  him  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

Reason  tells  the  mourner  that  his  tears  are  as 
absurd  as  useless,  for  the  grave  is  a  place  of  oblivion, 
and  that  the  dead  have  perished  for  ever.  Revela- 
tion tells  him  that  they  are  invisible  only,  not  extinct ; 
and  repeals,  beside  the  urn  that  contains  their  ashes, 
"  This  corruption  shall  put  on  incorruption,  and  this 
mortal  immortality,^^ 

But  it  is  at  the  bed  of  sickness  and  in  the  hour 
of  dissolution  that  the  superior  claims  of  revelation 
are  most  apparent.  Here  reason  is  dumb,  or  only 
speaks  to  aggravate  the  miseries,  and  render  still 
more  horrible  the  horrors  of  the  death-scene.  No 
relief  is  given  to  soften  the  grim  visage  of  the  king 
of  terrors.  As  nearer  he  approaches,  how  the  night 
darkens  !  how  the  grave  deepens  !  Trembling  on 
its  verge,  the  affrighted  soul  asks  what  the  nature 
of  death  is.  And  the  grave — what  are  its  domin- 
ions 1  The  treacherous  guide  answers,  "  Both  are 
unknown  :  that  darkness  no  eye  penetrates  ;  that 
profound  no  line  measures.  It  is  conjectured  to  be 
the  entrance  to  eternal  and  oblivious  sleep  ;  the  pre- 
cipice down  which  existence  tumbles.  Beyond  that 
gulf  which  has  swallowed  up  the  dead  and  is  swal- 
lowing up  the  living,  neither  foresight  nor  calculation 
reaches.  What  follows  is  unknowable ;  ask  not 
concerning  it ;  thus  far  philosophy  has  guided  you  ; 
but  without  a  guide,  and  blindfold,  you  must  take 
the  last  decisive  leap^ — perchance  to  hell,  perchance 


TRIUMPHANT    DEATH    OF    THE    CHRISTIAN.     77 

to  non-existence  1"  How  the  scene  brightens  when 
revelation  is  appealed  to !  As  the  ark  of  the  testi- 
mony is  opened,  a  voice  is  heard  to  say,  "  /  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life ;  he  that  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  again^  It 
is  the  voice  of  the  angel  of  the  covenant.  His 
bow  of  promise  is  seen  arching  the  sky,  and  reach- 
ing down  even  to  the  sepulchre,  whose  dark  caverns 
by  its  radiance  are  illuminated.  Behind  those  mists 
of  Hades,  so  impenetrable  to  the  eye  of  reason, 
eternal  mansions  rise  in  prospect.  Already  the  ag- 
ony of  death  is  passed.  To  the  redeemed  sinner 
there  is  but  one  pang  more.  Shouting  victory,  he 
endures  that  pang ;  and,  while  he  is  enduring  it,  the 
last  cloud  vanishes  from  the  firmament,  and  the 
heavens  become  bright  and  serene  for  ever. 

Young  gentlemen,  I  shall  not  longer  detain  you. 
In  a  more  exalted  sense  than  could  be  said  of  Cato 
at  Utica,  * 

"  Your  life,  your  death,  your  bane  and  antidote, 
Are  both  before  you." 

You  must  choose  between  them,  and  that  choice 
will  decide  your  destiny.  May  Almighty  God  di- 
rect you  in  it,  and  to  his  name  shall  be  the  glory. 


78      SEPARATION  OF  TEACHERS   AND  PUPILS. 


V. 

DELIVERED    JULY    24,    1811 

[Painful  feelings  of  Teachers  in  parting  from  their  Pupils.— 
ResponsibiUty  of  Teachers.— Constant  succession  of  Actors 
on  the  stage  of  Life. — Motives  held  out  to  the  Young  to  act 
their  part  well. — Discouragements  to  an  honourable  Ambition 
removed. — The  examples  of  Howard,  Sharpe,  Clarkson,  and 
Lancaster. — A  mixture  of  virtuous  and  vicious  Characters  in 
the  World. — The  practice  of  Virtue,  even  as  it  regards  this 
Life,  to  be  preferred.— But  there  is  a  God :  Man  is  accountable 
and  immortal,  and  should  act  with  constant  reference  to  these 
great  Truths, — Concluding  Exhortation.] 

Young  gentlemen,  another  collegiate  anniversary 
has  arrived.  Again  we  are  called  to  reciprocate 
our  commingled  joys  and  sorrows.  Parting  address- 
es occupy  us  ;  parting  sympathies  afflict  us  ;  and  the 
sundering  ties  of  duty  and  of  friendship  admonish  us 
that  another  year  has  been  measured  by  the  rapid 
flow  of  time  :  that  resistless  torrent,  which  is  ingulf- 
ing in  its  course  the  members  of  human  society, 
and  sweeping  away  the  monuments  of  human  glory. 

To  iiSj  your  instructers,  this  is  a  moment  of  the 
deepest  as  well  as  of  the  tenderest  interest.  Here 
we  stand  like  the  sorrow-stricken  parent  at  the 
threshold  of  his  door,  whither  he  has  accompanied 
his  adventurous  sons,  leaving  their  parental  home  to 
return  no  more.  My  God  !  what  a  trust,  what  re- 
sponsibility is  this !  to  be  the  appointed  guardians 
of  the  public  hopes  and  the  public  safety  ;  to  feed 
and  direct  those  streams  which,  as  they  flow,  must 
either   desolate    or  fertilize   our  country,  and  the 


CONSTANT  SUCCESSION  OF  ACTORS.    79 

churches  of  our  God  ;  to  train  and  send  abroad  an 
annual  corps  of  actors  destined  to  corrupt  or  to  re- 
form life's  ever-varying  drama,  and  prove  the  future 
benefactors  or  the  future  scourge  of  mankind. 

To  you,  our  pupils,  this  is  a  moment  of  no  com- 
mon interest.  That  world  on  which  you  are  enter- 
mg,  like  this  retreat  of  science  you  are  leaving, 
changes  with  rapid  succession  its  inhabitants.  As 
you  approach  it,  indeed,  every  place  of  honour,  of 
confidence,  of  profit,  appear  preoccupied :  there 
seems  to  be  no  room  for  action.  The  thought  op- 
presses you,  and  you  feel,  perhaps,  a  kind  of  melan- 
choly presage  of  that  penury  and  obscurity  which, 
from  the  present  state  of  things,  you  must  be  doom- 
ed to  suffer.  Believe  me,  it  is  a  deceptive  view 
that  you  are  taking.  If  all  those  places  of  honour, 
of  profit,  of  confidence,  are  not  already  vacant,  it  is 
precisely  the  same  to  you  as  if  they  were  so. 
Death  and  age  are  vacating,  and  will  vacate  them 
in  time  for  you  to  occupy.  Soon  the  laurels  of 
yonder  hero  will  have  withered ;  those  venerable 
senators  will  be  incapable  of  legislating  ;  those  eru- 
dite judges  of  presiding  ;  the  tongue  of  that  resist- 
less advocate  will  falter  as  he  pleads  ;  the  persua- 
sive accents  of  yonder  pulpit  orator  will  die  away 
and  be  heard  no  more  ;  and  all  that  intelligence  and 
virtue,  that  active  and  successful  talent  which  adorns 
the  age,  will  disappear,  and  its  honoured  possessors, 
conducted  in  succession  to  their  graves,  will  moul- 
der amid  sepulchral  ashes,  forgotten,  or  remembered 
only  by  the  monuments  of  glory  they  shall  have 
during  their  transitory  life  erected. 


80  CLAIMS    ON    THE    YOUNG. 

As  you  advance,  the  stage  will  clear  before  you ; 
and  the  honours,  the  responsibilities,  the  treasures, 
and  the  destinies  of  mankind  will  be  committed  to 
the  rising  generation,  of  which  you  form  a  part ; 
and  at  the  head  of  which  you  may,  and  ought  to 
hold  a  conspicuous  rank.  They  who  now  award  to 
you  these  collegiate  honours — he  who  now  addresses 
to  you  this  collegiate  charge — this  board  of  trust — 
that  board  of  regency,  will  soon  give  place  :  and 
this  seat  of  science — what  am  I  saying  1  every  seat 
of  science,  every  temple  of  law,  of  justice,  and  of 
grace,  will  be  placed  under  your  care  and  guardian- 
ship. To  you,  under  God,  the  state,  the  church, 
the  world,  must  look  for  whatever  of  good  it  hopes 
for,  or  of  evil  it  dreads. 

Entering  on  such  a  theatre  under  such  circum- 
stances, can  you  disappoint  the  high  hopes  of  those 
parents  who  will  leave  you  the  inheritors  of  their  for- 
tunes and  the  guardians  of  their  fame  ?  Can  you 
disregard  the  reasonable  claims  of  that  future  public, 
that  Will  soon  be  anxious  to  employ  you  in  its  ser- 
vice and  to  crown  you  with  its  honours  ?  Entering 
on  such  a  theatre  in  such  circumstances,  are  you  will- 
ing to  disgrace  yourselves  by  meanness  or  to  de-, 
stroy  yourselves  by  wickedness  ?  Are  you  willing 
to  forego  the  glory  to  wiiich  God  calls  you,  and  to 
prostitute  the  talents  God  has  given  you  ?  To  em- 
ploy your  intellectual  vigour  in  maturing  and  evolv- 
ing plans  of  lust  and  treachery ;  to  become  the 
companions  of  the  vile,  the  panders  of  the  profli- 
gate, the  ministers  of  evil,  and  coadjutors  of  Sa- 
tan ;  in  distracting  human  society,  in  disturbing  hu- 


CALLS    TO    ACTIVE    EXERTION.  81 

man  peace,  and  in  counteracting  the  benevolent  pur- 
poses of  Deity  1  Your  hearts  revolt  from  the  idea  ; 
you  shudder  at  the  thought.  Such,  however,  is 
truly  the  sinner's  employment,  such  his  character, 
and  such  surely  will  be  yours  if  you  attach  your- 
selves to  his  society  and  accompany  him  in  his  ca- 
reer ;  your  influence  will  become  malignant,  your 
example  infectious,  and  your  names  descend  to  pos- 
terity black  with  infamy.  Sin  diseases  the  body  : 
it  degrades  the  mind,  and  damns  alike  the  reputation 
and  the  soul.  In  the  records  of  human  glory  which 
are  kept  in  heaven,  there  is  not  inscribed  one  profli- 
gate, unreclaimed,  unrepentant  sinner's  name. 

You  will  not  make  the  profligate's  wretched 
choice,  his  desperate  sacrifice.  Your  past  conduct, 
your  present  resolutions,  are  pledges  that  you  will 
not :  God  grant  you  may  not ;  but  it  is  not  enough 
that  you  will  not  do  this. 

Again  I  ask,  therefore,  whether,  entering  on  such 
a  theatre  under  such  circumstances — a  theatre  where 
there  is  so  much  good  to  be  accomplished  and  so 
much  glory  to  be  won — whether  the  mere  negative 
praise  of  living  harmless  and  inoffensive  is  all  you 
aspire  to  ?  Are  you  willing,  after  all  the  pains  which 
have  been  taken  with  you,  after  all  the  treasures 
that  have  been  expended  on  you,  after  all  the  pray- 
ers that  have  been  offered  up  for  you — are  you  will- 
ing to  become,  not  to  say  injurious,  but  useless  to 
society  ?  Are  you  willing  merely  to  grovel  through 
life  ;  to  creep  away  from  this  seminary  like  unfledg- 
ed reptiles  from  their  cells,  and,  buried  in  obscurity, 
pass  your  future  years  in  inglorious  sloth,  till  finally, 


82       INDIVIDUAL  EFFORTS  AND  EXAMPLES. 

mere  excrescences,  you  perish  unnoticed,  unremem- 
bered,  and  unlamented  ?  willing  to  perish  from  that 
world  in  which  you  received  your  being,  without 
having  wiped  away  a  tear,  without  having  mitigated  a 
sorrow,  without  having  imparted  a  pulse  of  joy,  or 
left  one  monument  on  earth,  or  sent  one  messenger 
to  heaven,  to  testify  that  you  have  not  lived  hter 
ally  in  vain  ?  Can  the  vivacious,  the  buoyant,  the. 
bold,  the  daring  spirit  of  ingenuous  youth  be  satis* 
fied  by  the  prospect  of  such  a  destiny  ? 

But  what  can  a  youthful  adventurer,  a  mere  indi- 
vidual, hope  to  accomplish  for  the  benefit  of  virtue 
or  the  world  ?  What !  Almost  anything  he  wills  to 
undertake  and  dares  to  persevere  in.  This  world 
is  made  up  of  individuals.  All  the  fame  that  has 
been  acquired,  all  the  infamy  that  has  been  merit- 
ed, all  the  plans  of  happiness  or  misery  that  have 
been  formed,  all  the  enterprises  of  loyalty  or  of 
treason  that  have  been  executed,  have  owed  their 
existence  to  the  wisdom  or  folly,  to  the  courage  or 
temerity  of  individuals — mere  youthful  adventurers 
as  you  are  ;  and,  though  only  individuals,  each  of 
you  possesses  a  capacity  for  doing  either  good  or 
evil,  which  human  foresight  cannot  measure  nor  hu- 
man power  limit.  Your  immediate  exertions  may 
benefit  or  injure  some  ;  your  example  may  reach 
others  ;  those  whom  your  example  reaches  may 
communicate  their  feelings  to  individuals  more  re- 
mote, by  whom  those  feelings  may  be  again  com- 
municated to  those  who  will  recommunicate  them  : 
all  of  whom  may  transmit  the  influence  which  com- 
menced with  you  to  a  succeeding  generation,  whicl* 


POWER    OF    INDIVIDUALS.  83 

in  its  turn  may  transmit  it  to  the  next,  to  be  again 
transmitted.  Thus  the  impulse  given  either  to  vir- 
tue or  to  vice  by  a  single  individual  may  be  immeas- 
urably extended,  even  to  distant  nations,  and  com- 
municated through  succeeding  ages  to  the  remotest 
generations. 

Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  their  infidel  coadjutors 
collected  their  materials,  and  laid  a  train  which  pro- 
duced that  fatal  explosion  which  shook  the  civilized 
world  to  its  centre.  Governments  were  dismem- 
bered ;  monarchies  were  overthrown ;  institutions 
were  swept  away  ;  society  was  flung  into  confusion  ; 
human  life  was  endangered  :  years  have  elapsed  ; 
the  face  of  Europe  is  yet  covered  with  wrecks  and 
desolations ;  and  how  long  before  the  world  will 
recover  from  the  disastrous  shock  their  conspiracy 
occasioned,  God  only  knows.  Yet  Voltaire,  Rous- 
seau, and  their  infidel  coadjutors  were  individuals. 

Did  not  Cyrus  sway  the  opinions,  awe  the  fears, 
and  direct  the  energies  of  the  world  at  Babylon? 
Did  not  Caesar  do  this  at  Rome,  and  Constantine 
at  Byzantium  1  And  yet  Cyrus,  Caesar,  and  Con- 
stantine were  individuals.  But  they  were  fortunate  ; 
they  lived  at  critical  conjunctures,  and  in  fields  of 
blood  gathered  immortality.  And  is  it  at  critical 
conjunctures,  and  in  fields  of  blood  only,  that  im- 
mortality can  be  gathered  ?  Where  then  is  Hoiuard, 
that  saint  of  illustrious  memory,  who  traversed  his 
native  country,  exploring  the  jail  and  the  prison-ship, 
taking  the  dimensions  of  that  misery  which  these 
caverns  of  vice,  of  disease,  and  of  death  had  so  long 
concealed  ?  whose  heroic  deeds  of  charity  the  dun- 


84  HOWARD. SHARPE. 

geons  alike  of  Europe  and  of  Asia  witnessed  ;  and 
whose  bones  now  consecrate  the  confines  of  distant 
Tartary,  where  he  fell  a  martyr  to  his  zeal — when, 
like  an  angel  of  peace,  he  was  engaged  in  convey- 
ing through  the  cold,  damp,  pestilential  cells  of  Rus- 
sian  Crimea  the  lamp  of  hope  and  the  cup  of  con- 
solation to  the  incarcerated  slave,  who  languished 
unknown,  unpitied,  and  forgotten  there. 

Where  is  Grenville  Sharpe,  the  negro's  advocate, 
whose  disinterested  efforts,  whose  seraphic  elo- 
quence, extorted  from  a  court  tinctured  with  the  re- 
mains of  feudal  tyranny  that  memorable  decision 
of  Lord  Mansfield,  which  placed  an  eternal  shield 
between  the  oppressor  and  the  oppressed ;  which 
raised  a  legal  barrier  around  the  very  person  of  the 
enslaved  African,  and  rendered  liberty  thereafter  in- 
separable from  the  soil  of  the  seagirt  isles  of  Brit- 
ain ?  It  was  thi-s  splendid  triumph  of  reason  over 
passion,  of  justice  over  prejudice,  that  called  from 
the  Irish  orator  that  burst  of  ingenuous  feeling  at 
the  trial  of  Rowan,  when  he  said,  "  I  speak  in  the 
spirit  of  the  British  law,  which  proclaims  even  to  the 
stranger  and  the  sojourner,  the  moment  he  sets  his 
foot  on  British  earth,  that  the  ground  on  which  he 
treads  is  holy.  'No  matter  in  what  language  his 
doom  may  have  been  pronounced :  no  matter  what 
complexion  incompatible  with  freedom  an  Indian  or 
an  African  sun  may  have  burned  upon  him  :  no 
matter  in  what  disastrous  battle  his  liberty  may  have 
been  cloven  down  :  no  matter  with  what  solemnities 
he  may  have  been  devoted  upon  the  altar  of  slavery, 
the  first  moment  he  touches  the  sacred  soil  of  Brit- 


CLARKSON.  85 

ain,  the  altar  and  the  god  sink  together  in  the  dust ; 
his  soul  walks  abroad  in  her  own  majesty  ;  his  body 
swells  beyond  the  measure  of  his  chains,  that  burst 
from  around  him,  and  he  stands  redeemed,  emanci- 
pated, disenthralled,  by  the  irresistible  genius  o^  uni- 
versal emancipation,^^ 

Where  is  Clarkson<,  who  has  been  so  triumphantly 
successful  in  wiping  away  the  reproach  of  slavery 
from  one  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  in  restoring  to 
the  rights  of  fraternity  more  than  twenty  millions  of 
the  human  family :  that  man  who,  after  so  many 
years  of  reproach  and  contumely — after  sufferings 
and  perseverance  which  astonish  as  much  as  they 
instruct  us,  succeeded  in  turning  the  current  of  na- 
tional feeling,  in  awaking  the  sense  of  national  jus- 
tice, and,  finally,  in  obtaining  from  the  Parliament  of 
England  that  glorious  act,  the  abolition  of  the  slave- 
trade  ?  an  act  to  which  the  royal  signature  was 
affixed  at  noonday,  and  just  as  the  sun  reached  the 
meridian  :  a  time  fidy  chosen  for  the  consummation 
of  so  splendid  a  transaction — a  transaction  which 
reflects  more  honour  on  the  king,  the  Parliament, 
the  people,  than  any  other  recorded  in  the  annals  of 
history.  Where  is  this  man,  whose  fame  I  had 
rather  inherit  than  that  of  Csesar  ?  for  it  will  be 
more  deathless,  as  it  is  already  more  sacred.  And 
should  Africa  ever  arise  from  her  present  degrada- 
tion— and  rise  she  will,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  God — 
what  a  perpetual  flow  of  heartfelt  eulogy  will,  to  a 
thousand  generations,  commemorate  the  virtues,  the 
sufferings,  and  the  triumph  of  the  mgenuous,  the  dis- 
interested, the  endeared,  the  immortal  Clarkson — 


^6  LANCASTER. 

the  negro's  friend,  the  black  man's  hope,  the  de- 
spised African's  benefactor ! 

Where  is  Lancaster,  who  has  introduced  and  is 
introducing  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  letters,  and 
rendering  the  houses  of  education,  hke  the  temples 
of  grace,  accessible  to  the  poor?  owing  to  whose 
exertions  and  enterprises  thousands  of  children, 
picked  from  the  dirt  and  collected  from  the  streets, 
are  this  day  er»joying  the  inestimable  benefits  of  ed- 
ucation, and  forming  regular  habits  of  industry  and 
virtue,  who  must  otherwise  have  been  doomed,  by 
the  penury  of  their  condition,  to  perpetual  ignorance, 
and  probably  to  perpetual  misery. 

Ah  !  had  this  man  lived  but  two  thousand  yeara 
ago — to  say  nothing  of  the  effect  which  might  have 
been  produced  on  morals  and  happiness  generally 
by  the  wide  diffusion  of  knowledge  and  the  regular 
^formation  of  habits — to  say  nothing  of  that  vulgar 
ity  which  would  have  been  diminished,  or  of  that 
dignity  which  might  have  been  imparted  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  species — could  this  man  have  lived  two 
thousand  years  ago,  and  all  the  rude  materials  in 
society  have  undergone  only  that  slight  polishing 
which,  under  his  fostering  care,  they  are  now  likely 
to  undergo,  how  many  mines  of  beauty  and  riches 
would  have  appeared  !  How  many  gems,  madf 
visible  by  their  glittering,  would  have  been  collected 
from  among  the  rubbish !  Or,  to  speak  without  a 
figure,  had  this  man  lived  two  thousand  years  ago, 
how  much  talent  might  have  been  discovered  for  the 
church,  for  the  state,  for  the  world,  among  those  un- 
tutored millions  who  have  floated  unknown  and  un- 


GENUINE    PHILANTHROPY.  87 

noticed  down  the  tide  of  time  ?  Had  this  man  lived 
two  thousand  years  ago,  how  many  Demosthenes 
might  have  lightened  and  thundered  I  How  many 
Hojners  soared  and  sun^  ?  How  many  Newtons 
roused  into  action,  to  develop  the  laws  of  matter  ? 
How  many  Lockes  to  explore  the  regions  of  mind  ] 
How  many  Mansfields  to  exalt  the  bench?  How 
many  Erskines  to  adorn  the  bar?  A.nd  perhaps 
some  other  Washington,  whose  memory  has  now 
perished  in  obscurity,  might  have  been  forced  from 
the  factory  or  the  plough  to  decide  the  fate  of  battle 
and  sustain  the  weight  of  empire. 

And  yet  Howard,  Sharpe,  Clarkson,  and  Lancas- 
ter, were  individuals  ;  and  individuals,  too,  gifted  by 
no  extraordinary  lalents,  favoured  by  no  pecuhar 
theatre  of  action.  They  were  only  common  men, 
brought  up  in  the  midst  of  common  life.  No 
princely  fortunes  had  descended  to  them  ;  no  pater- 
nal influence  had  devolved  on  them ;  no  aspiring 
rivals  provoked  their  emulation  ;  no  great  emergen- 
cies roused  their  exertions.  They  produced,  if  I 
jnay  so  speak,  the  incidents  which  adorn  their  his- 
tory, and  created  for  themselves  a  theatre  of  action. 
Animated  by  the  purest  virtue,  and  bent  on  being 
useful,  they  seized  on  the  miseries  of  life  as  the 
world  presented  them  ;  and  by  deeds  of  charity  and 
valour  performed  in  relieving  those  miseries,  they 
converted  the  very  abodes  of  ignorance  and  wo  into 
a  theatre  of  glory. 

And,  young  gentlemen,  after  all  that  has  been 
done  by  these  patrons  of  virtue,  these  benefactors 
of  mankind,  remains  there  no  prejudice  to  correct ; 


88       RESPONSIBILITIES    OF    THE    EDUCATED. 

no  ignorance  to  instruct ;  no  vice  to  reclaim  ;  no 
misery  to  alleviate  ?  Look  around  you  :  still  there 
is  room  for  youthful  enterprise,  for  manly  exertion. 
Go,  then,  into  the  world :  cherish  the  spirit,  imitate 
the  example,  and  emulate  the  glory  of  these  illus- 
trious worthies.  Let  no  disasters  shake  your  forti- 
tude ;  let  no  impediments  interrupt  your  career. 
Come  what  will,  of  this  be  assured,  that  in  e\ery 
enterprise  of  good  God  will  be  on  your  side  ;  and 
that,  should  you  even  fail,  failure  will  be  glorious  : 
nor  will  it  ever  be  said  in  heaven  of  the  man  who  . 
has  sincerely  laboured  on  the  earth  to  glorify  his 
God  or  benefit  his  country,  that  he  has  lived  in  vain. 
Whatever  profession  you  may  select,  enter  it  with 
zeal,  with  ardour,  with  elevated  and  expanded  views^ 
with  noble  and  disinterested  motives,  as  becomes  a 
youth  of  liberal  education,  an  enlightened  adven- 
turer, bent  on  glory,  and  setting  out  in  a  career  of 
immortality.  Always  be  alive  to  the  promotion  of 
virtue,  to  the  suppression  of  vice,  to  the  relief  of 
misery.  Always  be  projecting  and  maturing  new 
plans  of  public  and  glorious  enterprise  :  nor  feel  as 
if  anything  had  been  done  while  anything  of  good 
remains  to  be  accomplished. 

It  is  a  false  as  well  as  a  degrading  doctrine,  that 
you  were  made  for  individual  benefit,  and  live  only 
for  yourselves.  This  is  true  of  no  one.  Much 
less  is  it  true  of  you,  whom  God  has  selected  tlrom 
the  multitude,  and  distinguished  by  better  means 
and  greater  opportunities.  And  why  has  he  done 
this  1  From  individual  partiality  1  No.  Doubt- 
less not.     But  that  he  may  qualify  a  chosen  num- 


SELFISHNESS    NOT    UNIVERSAL.  89 

ber  to  fill  a  higher  station  ;  to  move  in  a  more  « 
tended  sphere,  and  practise  a  sublimer  charhv      He" 

and  him  that  hath  none  to  help  him  •    l^^^"'*^'■'««^' 
be  e,e,  .„  ,,,  ^^^^  ^  help^l^n      h 

saved  b,, our  virtL'and  ^ur'Sr  '''  ^"""'^^ 
But,  when  all  the  world  are  mean  and  mercenarv 

It  IS  conceded,  because  it  cannot  be  denied  that 

of  ruih^a^trr  ""'^^^ ''''-' ^  ^'^^^'^'^^ 

or  guilty  actors  have  converted  the  drama  of  lifr 
into  one  vast  exhibition  of  fraud  and  falsehood   of 
deceit  and  treachery,  of  avarice  and  revelry    am'onl 
whom  personal  interest  predominates,  and^ndivTdua! 
emolument   forms  the   bond  of  criminal   alnce 
But  at  the  same  time  it  is  contended  that  there  ex 
ists  a  countervailino-  influence  •  th^t . 
is  continiinll..  ^     •  ','"""®"'=f  '  that  a  counter  scene 
w  continuallj'  carried  forward,  in  which  actions  of  a 
different  type  are  unfolded  :  actions  which  tend  to 
relieve  the  picture  of  human  guilt,  and  soften  ,h^ 
.ntenseness  of  human  misery.^  I     the  worst   of 
t.n>es  and  in  the  most  depraved  of  countrfes  Lre 
are  always  scattered  some  individuals  of  aln^n 


90  DEGREES    OF    VIRTUE. 

and  virtuous  character,  whose  benevolent  exertions 
are  limited  by  no  boundaries  of  territory,  shndes  of 
complexion,  or  ties  of  blood  ;  who,  with  a  perseve- 
rance that  never  relaxes  and  a  vigilance  that  never 
slumbers,  are  pursuing,  not  their  own,  but  the  public 
welfare  ;  whose  hours  of  relaxation  and  of  business 
are  alike  occupied  with  plans  of  utility  or  of  reform  ; 
and  the  grand  and  predominant  object  of  whose  ex- 
ertions and  whose  prayers  is  the  happiness  of  the 
human  family. 

If  you  knew  the  world  better  than  you  do,  you 
would  know  that  it  comprises  a  great  variety  of 
character  :  "  that  none  are  absolutely  perfect ;  that 
those  who  approach  towards  perfection  are  few ; 
that  the  bulk  of  mankind  are  very  imperfect,  and 
that  many,  but  not  the  majority,  are  exceedingly 
profligate,  deceitful,  and  wicked." 

But,  though  the  world  were  universally  as  mean 
and  mercenary  as  the  objection  states,  it  would  not 
alter  the  counsel  we  are  giving  you.  In  such  a 
world  it  would  behoove  you,  the  alumni  of  this  seat 
of  science,  to  be  nobly  singular.  From  such  so- 
ciety I  would  separate  ;  against  such  principles  1 
would  protest.  However  the  multitude  might  live, 
for  my  single  self  I  would  act  uprightly  ;  I  would 
frown  on  vice,  I  would  favour  virtue — favour  what- 
ever would  elevate,  would  exalt,  would  adorn  char.* 
acter,  and  alleviate  the  miseries  of  my  species,  or 
contribute  to  render  the  world  I  inhabited,  like  the 
heavens  to  which  I  looked,  a  place  of  innocence 
and  felicity.  Though  all  mankind  were  profligate 
I  would,  by  a  uniform  CDurse  of  probity  and  integ- 


INHERENT    DIGNITY    OF    VIRTUE.  9' 

rity,  show  in  what  school  I  had  been  nurtured  and 
to  what  faith  I  belonged. 

And  I  would  do  this,  because  I  would  rather 
Btand  alone,  or  be  pointed  at  among  only  those  ten 
righteous  men  who  would  have  saved  Sodom,  than 
swell  the  number  of  my  companions  by  all  the  vag- 
abond profligates  that  could  be  raked  from  the  sew- 
ers of  earth  or  collected  from  the  caverns  of  hell. 

Even  though  there  were  no  God-  no  immortali- 
ty— no  accountability,  I  would  do  this.  Vice  in  it- 
self is  mean,  degrading,  detestable :  virtue  com- 
mendable, exalted,  ennobling.  Though  I  were  to 
exist  no  longer  than  those  ephemera  that  sport  in 
the  beams  of  the  summer's  morn,  during  that  short 
hour  I  would  rather  soar  with  the  eagle,  and  leave 
the  record  of  my  flight  and  of  my  fall  among  the 
stars,  than  to  creep  the  gutter  with  the  reptile,  and 
bed  my  memory  and  my  body  together  in  the  dung- 
hill. However  short  my  part,  I  would  act  it  well, 
that  I  might  surrender  my  existence  without  dis- 
grace and  without  compunction. 

But  you  are  not  called  to  do  this.  The  profane 
may  sneer   and   the  impious   scoff*;  but,  after  all, 

THERE   IS   A   GOD MAN   IS   ACCOUNTABLE MAN  IS 

IMMORTAL  ;  and  the  knowledge  of  this  stamps  value 
on  existence,  and  renders  human  action  grand  and 
awful.  These  truths  announced,  this  world  rises 
in  importance.  Its  transitory  scenes  assume  a 
more  fearful  aspect  and  awaken  a  more  solemn  in- 
terest. No  portion  of  existence  claims  such  re- 
gard or  involves  such  hazard  :  for  it  is  here,  upon 
this  little  ball,  and  during  this  momentary  life,  that 


92         INCENTIVES    TO   VIRTUOUS   EFFORT. 

eternity  is  staked  ;  that  hell  is  merited,  or  heaven 
won. 

This  is  not  conjectural,  nor  is  it  merely  proba- 
ble, but  certain — infallibly  certain.  A  revelation 
proceeding  from  God,  sealed  by  a  thousand  martyr- 
doms ;  confirmed  by  a  thousand  prophecies  ;  de« 
monstrated  by  a  thousand  miracles,  has  put  human 
speculation  at  rest  for  ever,  and  settled,  impera- 
tively settled,  the  question  of  man's  eternal  destiny. 
Yes,  you  are  now,  young  gentlemen,  forming  your 
characters  and  pronouncing  your  doom  for  a  dura- 
tion that  has  no  measure,  because  it  has  no  end  ! 

The  tenure  of  your  being,  the  hazards  of  this 
state  of  trial,  are  as  incompatible  with  indolence  and 
ease  as  with  prodigality  and  pleasure.  You  were 
not  made  to  repose  on  a  bed  of  sloth.  You  were 
not  sent  into  the  world  to  lounge  and  loiter,  but  to 
act  and  to  suffer.  You  are  called  to  brave  the 
storm  and  struggle  against  the  tempest,  as  you  press 
forward  with  never-fainting  a^id  never-failing  steps 
in  the  path  of  duty :  a  path  which,  you  are  told  be- 
forehand, leads  not  the  downward  course,  but  cross- 
es rugged  and  lofty  mountains :  mountains  which 
the  patriarchs,  and  prophets,  and  righteous  men  have 
crossed  before  you,  the  impress  of  whose  feet  is 
left  upon  the  flinty  road  they  trod,  and  whose  ac- 
clivities are  smoothed  as  well  as  stained  by  the 
blood  and  tears  they  shed  as  they  passed  over  them. 
Beyond  these  mountains  lies  the  heaven  that  ter- 
minated their  sufferings  and  crowned  their  joys. 
There  is  Abraham  ;  there  is  Moses  ;  there  is  Paul ; 
together  with  all  those  sainted  spirits  vvhich  in  sue- 


DEGRADATION    OF    THE    VICIOUS.  93 

cessive  ages  have  adorned,  preserved,  and  blessed 
the  earth. 

Having  chosen  those  men  to  be  your  future  com- 
panions .;  having  dared  to  encounter  the  trials  they 
encountered ;  having  commenced  the  journey  they 
have  completed,  and  pressing  forward  towards  the 
heaven  they  so  triumphantly  have  entered,  you  will 
not,  I  trust,  fear  the  sinner's  frowns  nor  feel  his 
tauntings. 

He  will  talk  to  you,  indeed,  of  a  laxer  discipline  ; 
of  a  less  rigorous  course,  and  of  more  immediate  as 
y/eW  as  of  more  licentious  pleasures.  You  will  tell 
him,  in  reply.  That  you  have  been  nurtured  in  the 
school  of  virtue  ;  that  you  have  been  baptized  in  the 
name  of  Christ ;  and,  as  becomes  his  folloivers,  are 
bent  on  immortaliiyj  a  pursuit  incompatible  alike 
with  inglorious  ease  and  brutal  pleasure. 

He  will  smile — he  will  sneer — perhaps  attempt 
to  pity  you  for  naming  Christ  and  thinking  of  im- 
mortality. And  again  he  will  talk  of  ease,  of 
pleasure,  of  freedom  from  hope  and  fear,  as  he 
holds  forth  to  you  the  skeptic's  cup,  mingled  with 
more  than  Circean  poison,  which  degrades  the 
wretch  who  drinks  of  it  in  his  own  estimation  from 
the  standing  of  a  man,  and  sends  him,  transformed 
into  a  mere  animal,  to  root  and  wallow  with  the 
swine  ;  to  caper  and  grin  with  the  monkey ;  to 
crouch  and  growl  with  the  tiger  ;  to  mew  and  purr 
with  the  kitten,  or  fawn  and  yelp  with  the  spaniel, 
during  a  momentary  degraded  life,  and  then  con- 
signs him  to  putrefy  and  rot,  together  with  all  this 
fraternity  of  brutes,  in  the  kennel — their  common 
sepulchre- 


94  CHRISTIAN    KESOLUTIONS. 

You  will  reply  to  him  again  as  you  have  already 
replied  to  him  ;  and  oh  !  widi  what  triumphant  su- 
periority, in  point  of  dignity  and  destination,  will 
you  reply  to  him  :  "  That  you  have  beeji  nurtured 
in  the  school  of  virtue  ;  that  you  have  been  baptized 
in  the  name  of  Christ ;  and  that,  as  becomes  his  fol- 
lowers, you  are  bent  on  immortality,''^  You  will  tell 
him  that  his  hopes  may  be  correspondent  to  his  life  ; 
that  to  him  such  pursuits,  and  pleasures,  and  pros- 
pects may  be  in  character,  but  that  they  are  not  so 
to  you  :  that  you  have  no  ambition  to  live  brutes, 
barely  that  you  may  have  the  boasted  privilege  of 
dying  so  ;  that  you  claim  no  kindred  to,  that  you 
aspire  to  no  affiance  with  the  bristled  offspring  of 
the  sty,  nor  wish  to  be  indoctrinated  in  that  sub- 
lime  philosophy  which  is  to  teach  you  to  believe  that 
the  race  of  men  were  made  to  manure  the  soil,  and 
that  they  only  go  at  death  to  increase  the  general 
aggregate  of  carcasses  and  carrion  !  In  one  word, 
you  will  tell  him  that  you  are  Christians  ;  and 
that,  as  such,  the  all-perfect  God,  the  rewarder  and 
the  reward  of  virtue,  calls  you  to  a  different  course, 
and  has  promised  you  a  different  destiny.  Sinners 
indeed  you  are,  and  as  such,  by  the  law  of  nature, 
stand  condemned  :  not  so  by  the  law  of  grace, 
which  provides,  through  the  merits  of  a  Saviour,  for 
your  recovery  of  the  character  and  restoration  to 
the  felicity  of  those  who  have  never  sinned. 

And  now,  young  gentleman,  we  separate.  In  a 
few  years,  perhaps — within  a  century  at  most — we 
shall  all  meet  again.  Where  1  Beyond  the  grave, 
and  on  the  borders  of  eternity.    Life  is  only  a  narrow 


PAIITING    EXHORTATION.  95 

tsitJwms  ;  an  i?:thmus  already  washed  and  wasted  by 
the  flow  of  time.  The  earth  on  which  we  tread  is 
undermined  or  undermining  :  near  the  margin — per- 
haps upon  the  very  brink — we  tremble.  ]\o  matter 
though  it  be  so.  It  is  not  the  length,  but  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  journey  is  performed,  that  secures 
the  plaudit.  While  it  las^ts,  therefore,  and  till  the 
earth  sinks  under  us,  we  will  acquit  ourselves  like 
men,  and  contend  valiantly  for  the  cities  of  our 
brethren  and  the  honour  of  our  God. 

You  will  live  and  act  when  he  who  now  address- 
es you  will  neither  be  known  nor  numbered  among 
the  living.  Soon  the  cold  clod  will  press  upon  this 
bosom  :  this  voice,  silent  in  death,  will  no  longer 
warn  the  sinner  nor  sooth  the  sufferer  ;  nor  will 
this  arm,  stiffened  and  nerveless  in  the  grave,  ever 
again  be  raised  to  wipe  away  the  tears  of  orphanage 
or  to  distribute  the  alms  of  charity.  To  you  we 
commend  these  objects — anxious  for  those  who  will 
live  after  us.  With  you,  beloved  pupils,  we  leave 
this  memorial ;  and  we  charge  you,  by  the  love  of 
virtue,  by  the  hope  of  immortality,  to  see  that 
the  poor  has  bread,  the  mourner  consolation,  the 
friendless  friends,  the  oppressed  advocates,  the  Sa- 
viour of  sinners  disciples,  and  the  God  of  heaven 
Worshippers,  so  long  as  you  remain  on  earth.  And 
should  we,  your  instructers — ah  triumphant  hope  ! — 
be  so  happy  as  to  enter  those  mansions  which  grace 
has  prepared  for  the  redeemed  of  all  nations,  see 
you  that  the  spirits  of*  the  dying,  as  they  ascend  to 
join  us,  bring  with  them  tidings  of  your  faith,  and 
patience,  and  labours  of  love.     Let  us  hear  by  ev- 


96       REPORT  OF  GOOD  DEEDS  IN  HEAVEN. 

cry  sainted  messenger,  by  every  retprning  angel,  of 
something  you  have  done,  or  are  doing,  or  are  pro- 
jecting to  do  for  Christ — for  virtue — for  the  happi- 
ness and  honour  of  the  world  you  live  in.  Let  it 
be  told  in  heaven  that  another  Howard,  or  Sharp,  or 
Brainard,  or  Schwartz  has  appeared  on  the  earth  to 
enlighten  human  ignorance  ;  to  mitigate  human  suf- 
fering, and  to  exemplify  and  perpetuate  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  love  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour.  God 
Almighty  grant  that  our  hopes  may  not  be  disap^ 
pointed,  and  to  his  name  shall  be  the  glory. 


COURSE    OF   NATTJRE.  97 


VL 


DELIVERED    JULY    22,    1812. 

[The  Moral,  no  less  than  the  Physical  World,  subject  to  con- 
vulsions and  changes. — The  present  an  age  of  Political  Rev- 
olutions.—Our  Country  involved  in  the  contentions  of  Na- 
tions.— Importance  of  the  Era  in  which  we  live. — The  hopes 
of  Society  in  the  rising  Generation. — Knowledge  is  Power. — 
The  Savage  and  the  civilized  Man  compared. — The  dommion 
of  Mind,  as  exhibited  in  the  general  and  statesman — in  the 
example  of  ancient  Athens. — Encouragements  to  Perseve- 
rance in  the  pursuit  of  intellectual  Superiority.— Examples 
of  Homer  and  Demosthenes. — Power  beneficent  only  when 
associated  with  Goodness. — Human  Endowments  should  be 
consecrated  to  Religious  and  Moral  ends.— Nature  of  Civil 
Government,  and  duty  of  Obedience  to  it. — Exhortation  to 
defend  the  free  Institutions  of  our  Country. — Whatever  Trials 
befall  the  Christian  here,  his  Reward  is  sure  hereafter.] 

Young  gentlemen,  the  admission  of  a  class  to 
collegiate  honours  always  excites  solicitude  ;  partic- 
ularly so  at  seasons  of  doubtful  and  momentous  in- 
cident. The  course  of  nature  itself  is  not  uniform. 
At  intervals,  and  after  a  time  of  tranquillity,  a  sea- 
son of  disaster  and  convulsion  ensues.  The  bal- 
ance of  the  elements  seems  to  be  destroyed  ;  rivers 
change  their  beds;  seas  their  basins;  mountains 
are  removed ;  valleys  are  filled  up,  and  the  solid 
world  is  shaken.  Again  the  balance  of  the  elements 
is  restored  ;  the  conflict  subsides  ;  the  regions  of 
matter  are  tranquillized  ;  and  order  in  a  new  form 
takes  place. 

The  course  of  the  physical,  in  these  respects,  is 
emblematical  of  the  course  of  the  intellectual  and 
moral  world ;  at  least  of  that  part  of  it  with  which 


98        INTELLECTUAL    AND    MOHAL    WORLD. 

we  are  conversant.  In  civil  society,  after  a  season 
of  tranquillity,  a  season  of  convulsion  usually,  per- 
haps necessarily,  ensues.  Suddenly,  institutions  are 
changed ;  the  opinions  of  men  are  changed  ;  their 
habits  and  manners  are  changed.  Attempts  of  bold 
and  daring  enterprise  are  hazarded  ;  and  they  suc- 
ceed. More  is  undertaken — more  is  accomphsh- 
ed  in  a  few  years,  and  by  a  single  set  of  actors,  than 
was  accomplished,  or  could  have  been  accomplish- 
ed by  preceding  generations,  and  during  success- 
ive ages.  Again  tranquillity  ensues  ;  things  settle 
down  in  a  new  forin,  and  society  enjoys  the  ble'ss- 
ings  which  have  been  conferred,  or  suffers  the  in- 
juries which  have  been  inflicted  by  the  change. 

It  is  our  lot  to  live  at  a  time  peculiarly  disastrous. 
Change  has  followed  change  in  continuity.  The 
course  of  things  has  been  as  unaccountable  as 
alarming.  Foresight  has  proved  blind  ;  calculation 
has  been  baffled  ;  and  sages  and  statesmen  have 
gazed  in  consternation  at  a  series  of  events  so  im- 
probable in  their  nature,  so  rapid  in  their  succession, 
as  to  appear  in  retrospect  more  like  the  illusions  of 
fancy  than  the  actual  phenomena  of  real  life.  Half 
the  civilized  world  has  suddenly  been  revolutionized. 
Institutions  the  most  solid  in  their  materials,  as  well 
as  the  most  firm  in  their  contexture,  have  been 
swept  away.  Fabrics  which  human  skill  had  been 
for  ages  rearing  up  and  consolidating,  have  been 
demolished  ;  and  from  their  ruins,  as  from  another 
chaos,  a  new  order  of  things  has  arisen. 

Hitherto  we  have  contemplated  these  changes  as 
spectators  merely.     Awed  indeed  we  have  been  by 


POLITICAL    REVOLVTIONS.  99 

their  magnitude,  amazed  at  their  celerity.  The 
scene  of  suffering  which  has  been  disclosed  has  in- 
terested our  feelings  :  we  have  sympathized  with 
the  sufferers.  We  have  sighed  for  the  restoration 
of  peace,  and  the  return  of  repose  to  the  world. 
We  have  done  this,  however,  rather  out  of  charity 
to  others  than  apprehension  for  ourselves.  The  ark 
of  our  safety,  we  imagined,  was  anchored  too  firmly, 
and  in  a  harbour  too  remote  to  be  driven  from  its 
moorings  by  any  rude  blast  or  swelling  surge.  The 
scene  of  devastation  has,  however,  been  perpetually 
extending ;  wider  and  wider  the  destructive  vortex 
has  spread  itself;  realm  after  realm  has  been  drag- 
ged into  its  rapid  and  hitherto  fatal  whirl.  The  cur- 
rent at  length  has  reached  us  ;  our  bark  begins  to 
be  carried  forward  by  the  stream,  whether  to  be 
moored  again  in  safety,  or  to  be  wrecked  and  lost 
for  ever,  God  only  knows.  Our  character,  perhaps 
our  existence  as  a  nation,  is  staked  upon  the  issue 
of  that  contest  in  which  we  are  about  engaging. 
We  shall  not  be  hereafter  what  heretofore  we  have 
been.  Either  we  shall  rise  united  under  that  heavy 
pressure  which  will  soon  be  felt,  or  we  shall  sink 
beneath  it,  divided,  humbled,  and  disgraced.  W^ar 
is  an  experiment  on  our  form  of  government  which 
has  not  yet  been  tried.  A  momentous  experiment, 
involving  alternatives  for  which  no  human  being  can 
be  responsible,  and  to  the  issue  of  which  wise  men 
will  look  forward  not  without  awe  and  trembling. 
Perhaps — but  I  will  not  agitate  this  question,  nor 
indulge  that  anxious  train  of  thought  which  occu- 
pies my  mind  and  presses  on  my  heart. 


100  THE    RISING    GENERATION. 

At  such  a  time,  every  new  actor  that  steps  upon 
the  stage  is  an  object  of  more  than  ordinary  inter- 
est :  for  at  such  a  time  the  facihties  of  doing  either 
good  or  evil  are  increased.  Life  itself  becomes 
of  additional  importance  ;  it  becomes  more  rich  in 
incident ;  and,  if  years  were  measured  by  political 
events,  it  would  become  longer  in  duration. 

Attached  to  the  institutions  of  our  country,  and 
sensible  that  its  dearest  interests  will  soon  be  com- 
mitted to  those  who  will  survive  us,  we  feel  anxious 
concerning  the  part  which  they  hereafter  are  to  act. 
Hence,  as  we  welcome  them  into  life,  we  charge 
them  to  become  the  guardians  of  the  public  weal  ; 
to  preserve  what  is  good,  to  remedy  what  is  defect- 
ive, and  remove  what  is  evil  from  our  civil,  our  lit- 
erary, and  our  religious  institutions. 

It  is  not  to  the  risen,  but  to  the  rising  generation 
that  we  look  for  great  and  beneficial  changes.  The 
maturity  of  manhood  is  too  inflexible  to  admit  of 
being  recast  in  a  new  and  a  nobler  mould.  But  if 
the  whole  of  that  group  of  beings  denominated  the 
rising  generation  be  important,  how  important,  then, 
must  be  that  portion  of  this  group  which,  in  distinc- 
tion from  the  residue,  has  been  privileged  by  a  pub- 
lic and  liberal  education.  Every  post  of  duty  is  in- 
deed a  post  of  honour.  We  revere  industry  and 
integrity ;  and  we  ought  to  revere  them  at  the  plough 
and  in  the  workshop.  Still,  however,  when  these 
virtues  are  combined  with  polished  manners  and  lib- 
eral science,  they  shine  with  brighter  lustre  and 
command  profounder  reverence.  No  determinate 
number  of  perfectly  untutored  beings,  so  far  as  hu- 


POWER    CONFERRED    BY    EDUCATION.       101 

man  society  is  concerned,  can  be  put  in  competition 
with  a  youth  of  splendid  and  cultivated  talents. 
The  reason  is  obvious.  The  ability  of  such  a  youth 
to  exalt  or  to  depress,  to  reclaim  or  to  corrupt  com- 
munity, is  greater,  and  will  be  of  longer  continuance 
than  that  of  any  determinate  number  of  his  illiterate 
contemporaries.  The  latter,  limited  in  their  sphere 
of  action  to  the  place  where  they  reside  and  to  the 
time  in  which  they  live,  soon  sink  into  the  grave, 
when,  ordinarily,  their  deeds  of  virtue  or  of  villany 
are  forgotten.  The  former  acts  in  a  higher  style 
and  on  a  broader  scale.  Nations  feel  the  influence 
of  his  genius  while  living,  nor  does  death  itself  take 
aught  from  the  effect  of  his  precepts  or  example. 

Not  that  in  point  of  physical  strength,  youth  of 
erudition  acquire  any  superiority  over  the  rudest 
children  of  nature.  The  contrary  is  the  fact.  In 
muscular  exertion,  in  acts  of  agility,  in  the  chase, 
at  the  tournament,  and  the  caestus,  you  will  be  their 
inferiors.  Not  so  in  point  of  moral  influence. 
Education  qualifies  for  doing  either  greater  good  or 
greater  evil.  It  is  this,  young  gentlemen,  that  gives 
to  your  existence  so  much  importance,  and  excites 
in  your  behalf  so  deep  an  interest. 

It  is  an  old  proverb,  That  wealth  is  poiver.  The 
same  may  be  said,  and  more  emphatically,  with  re- 
spect to  knowledge.  Look  into  the  world,  and  con- 
template the  native  savage,  surrounded  by  forests, 
and  in  jeopardy  from  beasts  of  prey,  binding  his 
bark  sandals  to  his  feet,  and  flying  from  the  tiger,  or 
vainly  attempting  to  pierce  the  fawn  with  his  point- 
less arrow.  How  wild  and  awful  the  state  of  na- 
12 


102  SAVAGE    AND    CIVILIZED   MAN. 

ture  !  How  pitiable  and  impotent  this  state  of  man ! 
Contemplate  now  the  citizen.  Walled  cities  are  at 
once  his  accommodation  and  defence.  By  him  the 
forest  has  been  felled,  the  acclivities  of  the  mount- 
ains depressed,  the  deep  morass  filled  up :  by  him 
ferocious  animals  have  been  destroyed,  the  noxious 
productions  of  the  earth  have  been  subdued,  and 
monuments  of  art  erected.  x\mazing  change  !  All 
surrounding  nature  bespeaks  his  sovereignty  and 
contributes  to  his  comfort.  Whence  this  prodigious 
difference  in  condition  ?  What  circumstance  has 
contributed  so  much  to  exalt  one  portion  of  the  spe- 
cies ?  By  what  magic  has  a  being  of  so  little  phys- 
ical strength  been  enabled  to  acquire  a  dominion  so 
vast,  and  establish  a  government  so  absolute  ?  The 
answer  is  manifest.  By  knowledge  he  has  done 
this. 

Man  possesses  less  muscle  than  many,  but  more 
intelligence  than  any  other  terrestrial  inhabitant. 
He  alone  has  skill  to  analyze  and  combine  anew  the 
rude  materials  which  surround  him  ;  to  dig  from  the 
mine  its  precious  metals,  and  mould  from  the  ores 
his  weapons  of  conquest  and  defence.  Those  me- 
chanical powers  which  he  has  discovered  and  learn- 
ed to  apply,  remedy  the  effects  of  his  natural  imbe- 
cility. Thus  enlightened  by  science  and  fortified  by 
art,  he  is  enabled  to  control  and  tame  the  most  fero- 
cious animals,  to  raise  and  remove  the  heaviest 
masses,  and  to  direct  to  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purposes  the  very  elements  of  nature  itself. 

As  knowledge  extends  the  dominion  of  man  over 
matter,  so  also  does  it  over  mind.     What  an  im- 


THE    GENERAL    AND    STATESMAN.  103 

mense  advantage  does  he  possess  who  not  only  un- 
derstands the  machinery  of  language,  but  also  the 
influence  of  motive :  who  comprehends  the  econ- 
omy of  the  passions  ;  to  whom  the  principles  of  ac- 
tion are  familiar,  and  the  avenues  of  the  heart  open  : 
who  knows  hew  to  remove  prejudice,  to  conciliate 
affection,  and  to  excite  attention  :  who  can  at  pleas- 
ure sooth  or  rouse,  inflame  or  allay,  restrain  or  hurry 
on  to  action :  what  an  immense  advantage  does 
such  a  man  possess  over  him  who  can  only  stam- 
mer out  his  ill-timed,  ill-digested,  and  incoherent 
sentiments  in  a  manner  so  rude  and  repulsive  as  to 
disparage  the  cause  he  advocates,  and  defeat  the 
attainment  of  the  object  for  which  he  has  lent  his 
talents. 

Nor  less  the  advantage  of  science  in  every  other 
department  of  life.  It  is  Minerva  who  gathers  even 
for  Mars  his  laurel,  and  wins  for  Bellona  her  fields. 
How  august  a  spectacle  of  power  does  an  intelligent 
and  intrepid  general  exhibit  at  the  head  of  a  numer- 
ous and  well-appointed  army,  himself  the  bond  of 
union  and  the  centre  of  influence ;  wielding  this  tre- 
mendous force,  and  directing  it  when  to  act  and 
where  to  strike,  with  as  much  certainty  and  as  ter- 
rible effect  as  if  the  whole  were  animated  by  a  single 
soul. 

A  spectacle  scarcely  less  august  is  exhibited  by 
the  sagacious  statesman,  who,  from  the  retirement 
of  his  closet,  diflTuses  a  secret  influence,  tincturing 
the  opinions  of  courtiers,  guiding  the  decision  of 
princes,  embroiling  or  reconciling  diflferent  and  dis- 
tant nations,  and  producing  through  a  thousand  in- 


104  EXAMPLE     OF    ATHENS. 

termediate  agents,  and  in  regions,  perhaps,  which 
he  has  never  seen,  the  most  surprising  changes,  the 
most  improbable  events. 

It  was  science,  displayed  in  her  literature  and  her 
arts,  that  made  Athens  what  she  was  and  still  is — 
the  admiration  of  the  world.  The  record  of  her 
triumphs  and  of  her  overthrow  has  been  preserved 
in  the  midst  of  the  unwritten  ruins  of  a  thousand 
barbarous  states.  Ages  of  succeeding  darkness 
have  not  obscured  her  glory  ;  the  ravages  of  time 
have  not  obliterated  her  monuments.  The  history 
of  Athens  is  still  read,  and  it  is  dear  :  dear,  too,  are 
the  memorials  of  her  greatness,  and  dear  is  the  spot 
where  Athens  stood. 

By  a  tincture  only  of  science,  Russia,  amid  her 
snow-covered  forests,  has  recently  assumed  a  loftier 
attitude,  and  taken  a  higher  stand  among  the  nations. 
Indeed,  knowledge  furnishes  the  facilities  and  the 
instruments  of  operatmg  as  certainly,  as  efficacious- 
ly, and  more  extensively  upon  the  mind  than  the 
mechanical  powers  do  upon  matter.  And  the  man 
of  erudition,  aided  by  these  facilities,  surpasses  in 
intellectual  potency — in  a  capacity  of  action  and  of 
influence,  the  unlettered  boor,  as  much  as  the  scien- 
tific artificer,  aided  by  machinery,  surpasses  the  wild 
man  of  the  woods,  who  can  only  apply  to  the  im- 
pediments in  his  path  the  mere  strength  of  his  native 
muscles. 

Archimedes  affirmed  that  he  could  lift  the  earth 
could  be  but  find  a  place  to  rest  his  lever  on.  What 
Archimedes  found  not  in  the  regions  of  matter, 
some  intellectual  geometrician  may  yet  find  in  the 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PERSEVERANCE.     105 

regions  of  mind  ;  and,  finding,  exhihit  the  amazing 
spectacle  of  a  single  individual,  but  a  f^:\v  years  old 
and  a  few  feet  high,  concenirating  the  influence, 
swaying  the  opinions,  and  wielding  in  his  hand  the 
nations  of  the  world. 

Towards  the  attainment  of  mental  superiority, 
during  your  collegiate  course  you  have  made  some 
advance.  Other  atid  still  greater  advances  remain 
hereafter  to  be  made.  You  may  now  be  youth  of 
promise  ;  but  you  must  long  and  diligently  trim  the 
midnight  lamp  before  you  will  arrive  to  the  stature 
of  intellectual  manhood. 

Preparing  for  professional  duties  ;  shortly  to  min- 
gle among  the  busy  actors  on  yonder  interesting  the- 
atre ;  destined  to  take  sides  on  those  questions  which 
now  agitate  or  which  will  hereafter  agitate  com- 
munity, and  on  the  decision  of  which  the  happiness 
or  the  misery  of  unborn  millions  hangs  suspended; 
can  any  sacrifices  be  deemed  great,  or  any  discipline 
severe,  which  will  enable  you  hereafter  to  act  a  more 
conspicuous  part,  or  exert  a  more  controlling  in- 
fluence ? 

Perseverantia  vincit  omnia.  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber what  obstacles  obstructed  Homer's  path  to  glory  ? 
The  Grecian  orator,  too,  had  to  struggle  against  the 
influence  of  constitution.  By  perseverance,  how- 
ever, he  surmounted  the  most  discouraging  impedi- 
ments, and  supplied  by  art  the  defects  of  nature. 
His  lungs  he  expanded  by  climbing  the  steep  and 
rugged  mountains  ;  by  speaking  with  pebbles  in  his 
mouth  he  corrected  his  htammering  ;  and  his  voice 
he  strengthened  by  haranguing  on  the  surge- beaten 


106  POWER    WITHOUT    GOODZSESS 

shore  to  the  winds  and  the  waves.  Let  his  suc- 
cessful efforts  encourage  yours  ;  let  no  ordinary  ob- 
stacles dishearten  you  ;  let  no  ordinary  attainments 
satisfy  you.  Remember  always,  as  we  have  said, 
that  knowledge  is  power :  but  remember  also,  that 
no  degree  of  power — no,  not  even  power  almighty, 
is  in  itself  an  object  of  complacency.  We  tremble 
before  the  Deity  when  we  hear  him  utter  his  voice 
in  thunder  ;  when  we  behold  him  riding  on  the 
storm,  and  mark  his  terrific  course  amid  the  tem- 
pest. But  it  is  his  goodness  that  endears  him  to 
us.  We  love  to  contemplate  him  in  the  robe  of 
mercy — to  trace  his  footsteps  when  relieving  misery 
or  communicating  happiness.  As  goodness  is  es- 
sential to  the  glory  of  God,  so  it  is  to  the  glory  of 
his  creatures.  In  him  wisdom,  truth,  and  justice  are 
combined  with  power.  And,  because  they  are  so, 
the  interests  of  the  universe  are  secure.  But,  with- 
out these  essential  attributes,  almighty  power  would 
only  be  an  instrument  of  evil,  and  its  possessor  an 
object  of  detestation. 

Nor  less  truly  an  object  of  detestation  is  a  finite 
being  possessing  power  apart  from  goodness.  Ev- 
ery unprincipled  youth,  therefore,  that  goes  forth 
crowned  from  our  seats  of  science,  is,  and  ought  to 
be  viewed  as  an  assassin  doubly  armed  and  let 
loose  upon  the  world.  No  matter  whether  he  min- 
gles poison  as  a  druggist,  utters  falsehood  as  an  ad- 
vocate, preaches  heresy  as  a  minister,  practises 
treachery  as  a  statesman,  or  sheds  blood  as  a  sol- 
dier ;  everywhere  alike,  he  will  etrengihen  the  hands 
of  sinners,  increase  the  amount  of  guilt,  and  add  to 


RELIGIOUS    MOTIVES.  107 

the  mass  of  misery.  Lucifer  may  originally  have 
been  as  sagacious  and  as  potent  as  Gabriel ;  and, 
had  his  submission  been  as  profound  and  his  mo- 
raHty  as  blameless,  he  might  still  have  enjoyed  a 
fame  as  fair  and  as  deathless.  Oh  !  that  the  failure 
and  the  fall  of  angels  were  duly  considered  and  at- 
tended to  by  men. 

It  is  the  fear  of  God  and  the  faith  of  Jesus  only 
that  can  consecrate  your  talents — consecrate  your 
influence,  and  make  you  to  your  friends,  to  your 
\jountry,  and  to  the  universe,  instruments  of  good. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  pronounce  any  benediction  on 
endowments  not  devoted  to  the  Almighty.  There 
may  be  cunning,  there  may  be  temerity  ;  but  great- 
ness and  glory  there  cannot  be  where  religion  is 
not.  The  sinner's  splendour  is  as  transient  and  as 
ominous  as  the  meteor's  glare.  It  is  only  the  path 
of  the  righteous  which,  like  the  morning  light,  bright- 
ens continually  to  the  perfect  day. 

You  will  enter  on  life  at  a  critical  conjuncture. 
Your  country  stands  in  need  of  all  the  talent  and 
all  the  influence  you  can  carry  with  you  to  her  assis- 
tance. May  I  not  hope,  that,  when  you  shall  be  num- 
bered among  her  patriots  and  statesmen,  your  pru- 
dence will  be  as  exemplary  as  your  zeal  1  Though 
^ou  should  differ  in  political  opinions,  be  one  in  af- 
Tection,  one  in  the  pursuit  of  glory,  and  one  in  the 
/ove  of  your  country.  Do  nothing,  say  nothing, 
t'o  produce  unnecessary  rigour  on  the  one  part,  or 
.awless  resistance  on  the  other.  Beware  how  you 
contribute  to  awaken  the  whirlwuid  of  passioK>  or 
CO  invite  to  this  sacred  land  the  rt^^^t  of  anarchy 


108  TRUTH  AND    MODERATIO^, 

Whatever  irritations  may  be  felt,  whatever  ques- 
tions may  be  agitated,  and  however  you  yourselves 
may  be  divided,  be  it  your  part  to  calm,  to  sooth, 
to  allay,  to  check  the  deed  of  violence  ;  to  charm 
down  the  spirit  of  party ;  to  strengthen  the  bonds  of 
social  intercourse ;  and  to  prove  by  your  own  ami- 
able deportment — by  your  own  affectionate  inter- 
course, that  it  is  possible  for  brethren  to  differ  and 
be  brethren  still.  Differ  indeed  you  may,  and  avow 
that  difference.  Freedom  of  speech  is  your  birth- 
right. The  deed  which  conveys  it  was  written  in 
the  blood  of  your  fathers  ;  it  was  sealed  beside  iheir 
sepulchres,  and  let  no  man  take  it  from  you.  But 
remember  that  the  deed  which  conveys,  defines  also, 
and  limits  this  freedom.  And  remember,  too,  that 
the  line  which  divides  between  liberty  and  licen- 
tiousness is  but  a  line,  and  that  it  is  easily  trans- 
gressed. The  assassin's  dagger  is  not  more  fatal 
to  the  peace  of  community  than  the  liar's  tongue. 
Nor  does  the  sacred  charter  of  the  freeman's  privi- 
leges furnish  to  the  one,  any  more  than  to  the  other, 
an  asylum. 

It  is  your  happiness  to  live  under  a  government 
of  laws.  Nor,  were  it  demonstrated  that  those  laws 
were  impolitic,  or  even  oppressive,  would  it  justify 
resistance.  There  is  a  redeeming  principle  in  the 
Constitution  itself.  That  instrument  provides  a  le- 
gitimate remedy  for  grievances ;  and,  unless  on 
great  emergencies,  the  only  rightful  one.  Under  a 
compact  Uke  ours,  the  majority  must  govern  ;  the 
minority  must  submit,  and  they  ought  to  submit ; 
not  by  constraint  merely,  but  for  conscience'  sake. 


TRUE    PATRIOTISM.  109 

i 

The  powers  that  he  are  ordained  of  God ;  and,  while 
they  execute  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  or- 
dained, to  resist  them  is  to  resist  the  ordinance  of 
God. 

You  remember  that  Jesus  Christ  paid  tribute 
even  unto  Caesar,  than  whom  there  has  not  lived  a 
more  execrable  tyrant.  You  remember,  too,  that 
his  immediate  followers,  as  became  the  disciples  of 
such  a  master,  everywhere  bowed  to  the  supremacy 
of  the  Roman  laws.  It  is  a  fact  that  will  for  ever 
redound  to  the  honour  of  the  Christian  church  and 
of  its  divine  founder,  that  its  members,  though  every- 
where oppressed  and  persecuted  for  three  success- 
ive centuries,  were  nowhere  implicated  in  those 
commotions  which  agitated  the  provinces,  nor  were 
they  even  accessory  to  those  treasons  which,  during 
that  period,  so  often  stained  the  capital  with  blood. 

In  the  worst  of  times,  and  however  you  may  dif- 
fer with  respect  to  men  and  measures,  still  cling  to 
the  Constitution;  cling  to  the  integrity  of 
THE  union  ;  cling  to  the  institutions  of  your  country. 
These,  under  God,  are  your  political  ark  of  safety  ; 
the  ark  that  contains  the  cradle  of  liberty  in  which 
you  were  rocked  ;  that  preserves  the  vase  of  Chris- 
tianity in  which  you  were  baptized  ;  and  that  defends 
the  sacred  urn  where  the  ashes  of  your  patriot  fa- 
thers moulder.  Cling,  therefore,  to  this  ark,  and  de- 
fend it  while  a  drop  of  blood  is  propelled  from  your 
heart,  or  a  shred  of  muscle  quivers  on  your  bones. 
Triumph  as  the  friends  of  liberty,  of  order,  of  reli- 
gion, or  fall  as  martyrs. 

I  now  bid  you  adieu.     What  scenes  await  you. 


110  ANTICIPATION    OF   HEAVEN. 

your  friends,  and  your  beloved  country,  I  knocv 
not ;  and  you  know  not.  But  this  we  know,  that 
tile  Lord  God  omnipotent  reignetli.  And,  because 
He  reigneth,  thougli  tiie  sea  roar,  and  tiie  waves 
thereof  be  lifted  up.  Mount  Zion  will  not  be  re- 
moved. 

This  world  is  the  region  of  sin ;  and  for  the  rea- 
son that  it  is  the  region  of  sin,  it  is  also  the  region 
of  disaster.  But  though  here  the  tumult  of  battle 
rage,  and  the  garments  of  innocence  be  rolled  in 
blood,  yonder  in  heaven  is  a  secure  abode.  There 
lay  up  your  treasure,  thither  direct  your  hopes. 
This  done,  face  danger,  and  defy  the  menaces  of 
death.  Unsuccessful  indeed  you  may  be.  Your 
fame  may  be  blasted,  your  property  may  be  plun- 
dered, and  your  bodies  doomed  to  exile  or  to  exe- 
cution ;  but  your  souls,  as  they  mount  from  the 
stake  or  from  the  scaffold,  looking  down  from  the 
scene  of  utter  desolation,  may  exclaim  in  triumph, 
"  Our  eternal  interests  are  secure  ;  amid  this  wreck 
we  have  lost  nothing."  May  Almighty  God  pre- 
serve you  from  evil,  or  enable  you  to  meet  it  as  tri- 
umphantly as  the  saints  met  martyrdom,  and  to  bifl 
name  shall  be  the  glory. 


LOVE    OF   DISTINCTION.  Ill 

VII. 

DELIVERED    JULY    28,    1813. 

fLove  of  Distinction. — Honour  and  Religion,  though  distinct, 
are  allied  to  each  other. — Modern  definition  of  the  Law  of 
Honour. — Fallacies  of  this  Definition  exposed. — A  sense  of 
Honour  in  different  degrees  operative  os  all  Minds  except  the 
most  debased — The  offices  of  this  Feeling  and  of  Conscience 
contrasted. —  Purpose  for  which  the  Sense  of  Honour  was  im- 
planted in  the  human  breast. — Its  Perversion  an  abuse. — Dig- 
nity of  Man,  and  the  lofty  distinction  conferred  on  him  by  his 
Maker. — His  Fall  and  Recovery.— His  Rank,  Capacities,  Pa- 
rentage, and  Destination,  all  call  upon  him  to  persevere  in  a 
steady  Course  of  honourable  Action,  in  his  Amusements,  his 
Pleasures,  and  his  Occupations. — Dignity  of  the  good  Man  in 
his  last  moments.— All  false  and  deceptive  appearances  will 
be  exposed  in  a  future  state  ;  and  those  only  who  are  truly 
and  sincerely  good  will  be  accounted  worthy  of  acceptance 
and  honour.] 

Young  gentlemen,  your  term  of  pupilage  is  al- 
most closed.  The  last  scene  is  acting  in  which  you 
will  take  a  part  on  the  collegiate  theatre.  Testimo- 
nials of  approbation  have  been  delivered,  badges  of 
distinction  conferred.  The  tokens  of  respect  from 
your  Alma  JMater,  with  which  you  will  return  to 
your  friends  and  your  home,  presuppose  attainments 
of  no  mean  value,  and  are  calculated  to  inspire  you 
with  lofty  ideas  of  personal  consequence.  Man 
loves  distinction,  and  he  ought  to  love  it.  That 
God  had  originally  created  him  but  little  lower  than 
the  angels,  and  crowned  him  with  majesty  and  hon- 
our, was  among  the  considerations  that  touched  the 
heart  of  David  with  gratitude,  and  filled  his  lips 
with  praise. 


112  HONOUR    AND    RELIGION. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  majesty 
and  honour  with  which  man  was  originally  crowned, 
difler  essentially  from  that  spm'ious  majesty,  that 
aflectation  of  honour,  in  which  he  too  often  now  ap- 
pears. And  let  it  also  be  remembered,  that  vice  it- 
self  is  never  so  dangerous  as  when  it  appears  in  the 
habiliments  of  virtue.  In  nothing  is  the  truth  of 
these  positions  more  manifest  than  in  that  self-com- 
placency with  which  little  men  practise  those  guilty 
meannesses  which  fashion  sanctions  and  folly  cele- 
brates. 

Honour  and  religion  are  indeed  distinct;  but, 
though  distinct,  they  are  allied  ;  and  there  can  be 
no  high  attainments  in  the  one  without  correspond- 
ing attainments  in  the  other.  There  is  nothing,  for 
instance,  estimable  or  elevating  in  a  mere  act  of  suf- 
fering ;  in  the  dislocation  of  joints,  or  even  in  the  con- 
suming of  the  body  by  fire.  But  there  is  a  majesty 
that  strikes,  a  grandeur  that  overwhelms  in  the  con- 
stancy of  the  martyr  who  endures  both  without  a 
murmur  for  God's  and  for  righteousness'  sake. 

We  do  often,  indeed,  render  honour  to  whom  it 
is  not  due  ;  but  we  do  this  beca.use  we  are  govern- 
ed, and  are  obliged  to  be  governed,  in  our  appraise- 
ment of  merit  by  external  appearances.  When, 
however,  any  action  is  pronounced  honourable,  some 
internal  motive  is  supposed  to  have  induced  to  its 
performance,  which,  if  it  had  truly  induced  to  its  per- 
formance, would  have  rendered  such  action  in  reality 
what  it  is  now,  perhaps,  in  appearance  only.  This 
is  a  delicate  point,  and  one  on  which  you  are  liable 
to  be  misguided.  I  have  therefore  chosen  it  for 
discussion. 


FASHIONABLE    LAW  OF    HONOUR.  113 

The  law  of  honour  has  been  defined  to  be  a 
system  of  rules,  constructed  by  •people  of  fashion,  and 
calcidaled  to  facilitate  their  intercourse  ivith  one  an- 
other ;  and  for  no  other  purpose. 

To  this  definition  two  objections  may  be  made. 
It  does  not  discriminate  between  the  object  of  this 
law  and  that  of  other  laws  ;  and  it  limits  to  people 
of  fashion  a  law  which  is  as  extensive  as  the  human 
race. 

Is  it  peculiar  to  the  law  of  honour  to  facilitate  in- 
tercourse among  those  who  are  subject  to  it  ?  Does 
not  the  civil  law  also  aim  at  this  ?  And  is  not  this 
an  object  at  which  the  divine  law  aims,  and  which 
itmoreover  effectually  accomplishes?  Again:  is  the 
law  of  honour  recognised  by  fashionable  people  only? 
Or  who  are  meant  by  fashionable  people  1  Those 
so  denominated  in  one  country  would  be  denomina- 
ted the  reverse  in  another.  And,  even  in  the  same 
country,  the  term  comprehends  no  precise  and  def- 
inite portion  of  community.  The  highest  are  fash- 
ionable only  by  comparison  :  the  intermediate  ranks, 
by  a  like  comparison,  are  fashionable.  The  series 
descends  from  grade  to  grade,  and  terminates  only 
with  that  ignoble  herd,  in  comparison  with  whom  there 
are  none  more  ignoble.  Who,  then,  are  those  fash- 
ionable people  by  whom  the  law  of  honour  has  been 
constructed  1  Are  they  those  only  who  occupy  the 
first  rank  ?  The  terms  of  this  law  are  familiar  to, 
and  its  sanctions  are  acknowledged  by  people  of  ev- 
ery description.  Neither  husbandmen  nor  mechan- 
ics are  destitute  of  rules  for  facilitating  intercourse ; 
nor  amonoj  them  can  such  rules  be  violated  without 


114  A    SENSE    OF    HONOUR  INHERENT. 

dishonour.  Remaining  traces  of  the  influence  of 
this  law  are  sometimes  found  among  ruffians  and 
banditti :  hence  we  hear,  and  the  terms  are  not  with- 
out significancy,  of  honour  among  thieves. 

The  fact  is,  I  believe,  that  the  law  of  honour  is 
common  to  man,  because  the  sense  of  honour  on 
which  it  is  founded  is  common :  a  law  which  had 
existence  previous  to  any  association  of  fashionable 
people,  and  would  have  continued  to  exist  though  no 
such  association  had  ever  taken  place. 

By  adverting  to  such  a  system  of  rules  as  the 
definition  under  discussion  supposes,  an  individual 
might  become  acquainted  with  the  legalized  eti- 
quette of  fashionable  life.  By  experience  he  might 
farther  learn,  that  the  observance  of  certain  rules 
facilitated  intercourse  ;  but  nature  alone  could  teach 
him  understandingly  to  say,  this  action  is  honoura- 
ble, that  dishonourable  ;  because  nature  alone  could 
give  him  that  inward  feeling  from  which  the  very 
idea  of  honour  is  derived. 

This  inward  feeling  or  sense  of  honour  is  allied 
to,  if  it  be  not  a  constituent  part  of,  the  moral  sense. 
It  exists,  perhaps  originally,  in  different  degrees  in 
different  individuals.  Its  sensibility  may  be  in- 
creased by  culture  or  diminished  by  neglect.  ltd 
influence  may  be  blended  with  other  influences ;  it? 
decisions  may  be  biased  by  custom,  by  education, 
by  prevalent  modes  of  thinking  and  acting  ;  it  maj 
discover  itself  in  different  ways  among  different  in^ 
dividuals  and  in  different  classes  of  community ;  buf 
among  all  who  have  not  ceased  to  be  men  and  bo 


MORAL    DESIGN    OF    THIS    FEELING.        115 

come  brutes,  some  indications  of  its  existence,  some 
iraces  of  its  influence  remain. 

It  is  by  this  sense  of  honour  that  we  ascertain  what 
pleasures,  what  pursuits,  and  what  demeanour  accord 
with  our  nature  and  rank.  Its  province  is  to  distin- 
guish between  dignity  and  meanness,  as  that  of  the 
l^oral  is  to  decide  between  innocence  and  guilty ; 
and  its  penalty  is  shame,  as  that  of  the  moral  sense 
is  remorse.  It  would  exist  if  there  were  no  fashion- 
able society,  nor  even  society  of  any  sort.  The 
wanderer  in  his  solitude,  and  communing  only  with 
his  heart,  would  recognise  its  influence,  and,  guided 
by  inward  feeding,  discriminate  between  actions,  high 
and  low,  dignified  and  mean.  And,  without  this 
feeling,  he  could  not,  even  in  society,  make  such 
discrimination.  Experience  would  teach  to  distin- 
guish what  was  useful  from  what  was  injurious; 
conscience  to  distinguish  what  was  virtuous  from 
what  was  vicious  ;  but  to  distinguish  what  was  hon- 
ourable from  what  was  dishonourable,  could  only  be 
taught  by  a  sense  of  honour. 

This  ennobling  principle  was  implanted  to  pre- 
vent the  degradation  of  the  species,  and  to  secure 
on  the  part  of  man  a  demeanour  suited  to  his  nature 
and  station,  who,  being  the  offspring  of  God,  once 
wore  a  crown  of  righteousness,  and  was  invested 
with  regal  honours.  This  high  purpose,  it  is  ad- 
mitted, in  the  present  state  of  things,  is  very  imper- 
fectly attained.  The  apostacy  has  diffused  its  mor- 
tal taint  through  the  entire  nature  of  man,  and 
neither  honour  nor  conscience  any  longer  performs 
with  due  effect  its  sacred  office.     And  yet,  degra- 


116  PERVERSION  OF  THE    SENSE  OF  HONOUR. 

ded  as  human  nature  is,  it  would  l)e  still  more  de- 
graded— vice  would  appear  in  new  and  more  deba- 
sing forms  if  all  sense  of  honour  were  suspended. 
Like  native  modesty  against  lust,  honour,  so  far  as 
its  influence  goes,  is  a  barrier  in  the  heart  against 
meanness.  Like  all  those  moral  tendencies  usually 
comprehended  under  the  idea  of  conscience,  its  iP 
fluence  is  feeble,  and  may  be  counteracted ;  its  de- 
cisions are  erring,  and  may  be  swayed  by  passion 
or  prejudice  ;  and  its  sensibility,  always  defective, 
may,  by  criminal  indulgence,  be  greatly  blunted,  if 
not  utterly  destroyed. 

Envy,  malice,  pride,  and  lust  are  ever  struggling 
for  dominion  in  the  breast  of  man.  And,  where 
grace  is  not  concerned,  they  have  dominion.  To 
the  prevalence  and  potency  of  these  abominable 
passions  it  is  owing  that,  in  fashionable  circles, 
so  many  virtues  are  disregarded  ;  so  many  vices 
are  practised,  although  no  sanction  is  afforded  to 
profligacy  by  honour  or  its  laws ;  the  unbiased  de- 
cisions of  which  are  for  ever  in  favour  of  whatever 
is  dignified  and  ennobling,  as  those  of  conscience 
are  in  favour  of  whatever  is  virtuous  and  holy ;  and 
it  is  not  till  their  joint  influence  has  been  resisted — 
has  been  stifled  and  overcome,  that  the  degraded 
debauchee  can,  without  shame  and  without  com- 
punction, enjoy  his  degradation. 

The  result  to  which  this  inquiry  would  conduct 
us,  but  which  we  have  not  now  time  to  pursue,  may 
be  thus  summed  up.  The  law  of  honour  has  its 
foundation  in  an  original  sense  of  honour  :  this  sense 
is  common  to  all  men ;  it  is  capable  of  being  either 


FASHIONABLE    MAN    OF   HONOUR.  117 

improved  or  corrupted  :  its  province  is  to  distinguish 
between  dignity  and  meanness  ;  and  its  final  design 
is  the  elevation  of  the  human  race. 

I  am  aware,  young  gentlemen,  that  in  these  degen- 
erate times  terms  of  honour  are  insensibly  changing 
their  significance,  and  becoming  terms  of  opprobri- 
um. And  it  is  fit  that  it  should  be  so.  Since  the 
contemptible  vapouring  of  principals  and  seconds  in 
their  humiliating  rencounters  are  conveyed  exclu- 
sively through  the  medium  of  these  once  reputable 
and  sacred  terms,  it  is  befitting  that  the  terms  them- 
selves should  lose  their  sacredness  ;  and  that  the 
expression,  "  a  man  of  honour,"  should  be  under- 
stood to  mean,  what,  in  fact,  in  the  modern  use  of  it, 
it  does  often  mean,  an  empty,  arrogant,  and  super- 
cilious coxcomb. 

Butj  because  words  are  misused,  do  not  suppose 
that  they  never  were  significant,  or  that  the  things 
to  which  they  were  once  rightfully  applied  no  long- 
er have  existence.  To  you,  not  as  people  of  fash- 
ion, but  as  intellectual,  moral  beings,  belong  the 
sense  and  the  law  of  honour. 

Man  is  ennobled  by  his  descent,  by  his  faculties, 
and  by  his  destination.  A  vast  chasm  intervenes 
between  him  and  the  highest  link  in  the  chain  of 
mere  animal  existence.  His  port,  his  attitude,  the 
texture  of  his  frame,  the  grace  and  expression  of  his 
countenance*  bespeak  a  heavenly  parentage,  an  ori- 
gin divine.  The  reptile  creeps,  the  brute  bends 
dovvnwai-d  to  the  earth.  Man  walks  erect ;  his  el- 
evated brow  meets  the  sunbeam  as  it  falls  by  day ; 


118  NOBLENESS  OF    MAN'S    NATURE. 

and  by  night,  the  immeasurable  firmament  presents 
its  resplendent  garniture  to  his  heaven-directed  eye, 

"  Two  of  far  nobler  shape,  erect  and  tall, 
Godlike  erect,  with  native  honour  clad, 
In  naked  majesty,  seem'd  lords  of  all." 

No  wonder  that  the  primeval  state  of  man  exci- 
ted in  the  poet  such  ideas.  The  grandeur  of  his 
body  strikes  not,  however,  so  forcibly  as  the  gran- 
deur of  his  mind.  How  august  a  spectacle  is  a  be- 
ing so  limited  in  his  corporeal  dimensions,  and  yet 
so  vast  in  his  intellectual  resources.  Reason,  mem- 
ory, fancy,  and  imagination  are  eminently  his  :  no 
space  hmits  his  researches,  no  time  bounds  his  ex- 
cursive sallies  ;  in  a  certain  sense,  he  pervades  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future.  His  soul,  inde- 
structible in  its  nature,  and  capable  of  endless  im- 
provement, is  but  the  miniature  of  what  it  shall 
hereafter  be.  Immortality — immortal  progression ! 
what  more  could  Adam  covet !  what  more  can  Ga- 
briel boast  of! 

Like  a  palace  for  its  monarch,  this  world  was 
reared  up  that  it  might  become  the  residence  of 
man.  Already  were  the  land  and  water  divided  ; 
already  was  the  earth  covered  with  herbage,  and  the 
fruit-tree  with  fruit ;  already  had  the  stars  been  set  to 
rule  the  night,  and  the  sun  to  rule  the  day,  when  man, 
the  last  and  the  noblest  of  terrestrial  beings,  was,  from 
his  native  dust,  ushered  into  life.  Fresh  in  the  robe 
of  innocence,  and  bearing  on  his  heart  his  Maker's 
image,  he  was  solemnly  inducted  into  the  legal  of- 
fice, and  constituted  sovereign  of  the  world,  "And 
have  donoinion,"  said  the  Almighty,  addressing  him- 


RECOVERY    FROM    THE    APOSTACY.         119 

self  to  our  first  parents,  "  And  have  dominion  over 
the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and 
over  every  living  thing  that  moveth  upon  the  earth.'' 
It  was  on  the  review  of  this  inauguration  that  David 
broke  forth  in  that  strain  of  admiration  to  which  we 
have  already  alluded.  "  When  I  consider  thy  heav- 
ens, the  work  of  thy  fingers ;  the  moon  and  the 
stars  which  thou  hast  ordained  ;  what  is  man  that 
thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man  that 
thou  visitest  him  ?  For  thou  hast  made  him  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with 
glory  and  honour ;  thou  madest  him  to  have  domin- 
ion over  the  works  of  thy  hands  ;  thou  hast  put  all 
things  under  his  feet." 

What  a  lofty  distinction  to  belong  to  such  a  race — 
to  be  descended  from  such  a  parentage — to  be  des- 
tined to  such  a  career  of  progressive  and  intermi- 
nable glory  !  With  what  profound  reverence  ought 
you  to  recognise  the  Author  of  your  being !  with 
what  a  burst  of  filial  gratitude  ought  you  to  approach 
His  throne,  who  has  bestowed  on  you  such  a  profu- 
sion of  honours,  and  made  you  the  heirs  of  such 
exuberant  felicity ! 

Say  not  that  the  loss  of  primeval  honour,  the 
change  of  original  destination  which  the  apostacy 
occasioned,  has  absolved  you  from  claims  which 
would  otherwise  press  upon  you.  The  apostacy 
cancels  no  debt  of  gratitude,  it  severs  no  tie  of  duty. 
And,  were  it  otherwise,  such  plea  to  man,  under  the 
present  dispensafion,  were  unavailable.  All  that 
was  lost  by  the  apostacy  of  Adam  has  been  recov- 
ered, and  recovered  with  boundless  increase,  by  the 


120  AMUSEMENTS. 

mediation  of  Christ.  To  be  restored  to  the  Divine 
image,  to  be  reinstated  in  the  Divine  favour,  to  be 
translated  to  the  heavens,  and  to  be  numbered 
among  the  sons  of  God — this  honour  have  all  His 
saints. 

"  If  the  surrendry  of  my  honour,"  said  an  illus- 
trious captive,  "  be  the  condition  of  my  liberty,  give 
me  back  my  chains  and  reconduct  me  to  my  dun- 
geon. I  can  brave  torture,  I  can  meet  death,  but  I 
cannot  do  an  act  that  will  disgrace  one  in  whose 
veins  circulates  the  blood  of  a  royal  Jincestry."  Oh  ! 
that  souls  in  captivity  to  sin'  would  consecrate  this 
sentiment,  and  act  with  like  becoming  dignity. 

Let  the  animal  browse,  let  the  reptile  grovel,  let 
the  serpent  creep  upon  his  belly  and  lick  the  dust ; 
but  let  not  man,  heaven- descended,  heaven-instruct- 
ed, heaven-redeemed  man,  degrade  himself. 

Your  rank,  your  capacities,  your  parentage,  and 
your  destination,  alike  bind  you  to  a  uniform  course 
of  honourable  pursuit,  of  dignified  exertion.  In 
your  amusements,  in  your  pleasures,  in  your  occupa^ 
tions.  on  your  deaths,  be  sensible  of  this. 

In  your  amusements. — Man  was  made  for  serious 
occupation,  but  not  for  such  occupation  perpetually. 
As  the  bow,  unstrung,  recovers  its  elasticity,  so  the 
mind  acquires  fresh  vigour  from  sleep,  "kind  na- 
ture's sweet  restorer."  Nor  from  sleep  alone. 
During  his  wakeful  hours,  severe  pursuits  must 
sometimes  be  suspended  ;  but  suspended  only  that, 
.after  a  short  interval,  they  may  be  the  more  suc- 
cessfully resunned.  Such  temporary  suspension, 
either  of  labour  or  study,  implies  no  waste  of  time, 
involves  no  degradation  of  character. 


PLEASURES.  121 

Newton  was  still  the  philosopher  when  engaged 
in  blowing  air  bubbles ;  Socrates  still  the  moralist 
when  joining  in  the  gambols  of  the  Athenian  chil- 
dren. How  does  the  gravity  of  pagan  philosophers 
reprove  the  levity  of  many  a  frivolous  pretender  to 
character  in  Christendom.  Those  active,  real  sages 
trifled  but  to  live :  these  idle,  spurious  Christians 
only  live  to  trifle. 

**  On  all-important  time,  through  every  age, 
Though  much  and  warm  the  wise  have  urged,  the  man 
Is  yet  unborn  who  duly  weighs  an  hour. 
*  I've  lost  a  day,'  the  prince  who  nobly  cried 
Had  been  an  emperor  without  his  crown ; 
He  spake  as  if  deputed  by  mankind. 
So  should  ail  speak;  so  reason  speaks  in  all." 

In  your  pleasures. — The  organic  pleasures  are 
usually  overrated  by  youth,  and  often  by  age.  And 
yet  these  pleasures  are  destitute  of  dignity.  It  is 
admitted  that  man  must  eat  and  drink  to  live.  So 
also  must  the  ox  and  the  oyster.  The  viands  of  the 
table,  in  point  of  elevation,  are  on  a  level  with  the 
fodder  of  the  stall.  And  the  guests  that  partake  of 
the  one,  so  far  as  the  gratifiication  of  animal  appetite 
is  concerned,  are  no  more  on  an  equality  than  the 
herd  that  devours  the  other.  Nor  can  any  pre-em- 
inence be  claimed  for  the  former,  unless  it  be  on  the 
ground  of  a  less  voracious  appetite,  or  a  more  tem- 
perate indulgence  of  it.  Not  so  with  the  pleasures 
of  the  eye  and  of  the  ear  :  not  so  with  intellectual 
pleasures.  These  are  dignified  as  well  as  exquisite. 
Honour,  no  less  than  enjoyment,  springs  from  a  par- 
ticipation in  them.  You  have  tasted  of  those  pleas- 
ures, but  you  have  not  exhausted  them.  The  claa- 
K 


122  SERIOUS    PURSUITS 

sic  fountain  is  still  open.  The  streams  of  Grecian 
and  Roman  eloquence  and  poesy,  commingling 
widi  those  no  less  pure,  of  more  modern  origin,  still 
flow  widiin  your  reach.  The  Academy  invites  you 
to  its  groves,  the  Lyceum  to  its  intellectual  banquets. 
These  are  pleasures  that  become  a  scholar,  that 
become  a  man,  and  that  are  not  incompatible  with 
the  temperance  and  sanctitude  of  a  Christian  man. 
But  the  pleasures  of  the  debauchee — from  these, 
honour,  conscience,  every  ennobling  feeling,  no  less 
than  reason,  revolt ;  and  no  man  ever  for  the  first 
time  seated  himself  at  the  gaming-table,  joined  the 
loud  laugh  at  the  horserace,  took  the  inebriating 
cup  at  the  dram-shop,  or  crossed  the  polluted  thresh- 
old of  the  brothel,  without  feeling  that  his  honour 
had  received  a  stain,  and  that  his  character  suffered 
degradation. 

In  your  pursuits, — Useless,  or  even  trivial  pur- 
suits illy  befit  the  majesty  of  the  human  soul.  Still 
less  do  these  mischiefs  and  meannesses  befit  it,  to 
which  genius  even  is  sometimes  liable.  But, though 
genius  is  sometimes  guilty  of  acts  of  this  sort,  such 
acts  are  by  no  means  indications  of  genius.  There 
is  a  trickishness,  a  dexterity  in  low  and  little  arts, 
that  characterizes  the  monkey  rather  than  the  man. 
Shallow  minds,  like  shallow  waters,  often,  perhaps 
usually,  babble  loudest. 

Being  young  is  no  apology  for  being  frivolous. 
Frivolity  suits  no  state  unless  it  be  a  state  of  idiocy. 
True,  you  are  just  entering  on  life.  The  life,  how- 
ever, on  which  you  are  entering  is  life  without  end. 
These  are  the  inceptive  steps  in  the  career  of  ini' 


DEATH.  123 

mortality  \  Not  even  death  interrupts  the  continuous 
flow  of  being.  Thus  situated,  are  you  willing  to 
forfeit  )'our  title  to  character  on  earth,  and  make 
God,  the  just  appraiser  of  honour  in  heaven,  the 
witness  of  your  low  actions  ? 

The  sublime  in  morals  is  exhibited  only  in  great 
and  useful  pursuits  ;  and  he  only  is  an  honourable 
man  who  acts  worthy  of  himself,  and  worthy  of  the 
approbation  of  God,  his  Maker  and  his  Master  ;  who 
attends  to  every  duty  in  its  season  ;  who  fills  with 
dignity  his  appropriate  station,  and  directs  the  whole 
vigour  of  his  mind  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  the 
promotion  of  virtue,  and  the  accomplishment  of 
good  ;  who  can  make  sacrifices  ;  who  can  confront 
danger ;  who  can  resist  temptation  ;  who  can  sur- 
mount obstacles ;  and  who,  trampling  alike  on  the 
world  and  on  the  tomb,  pursues  with  undeviating 
step  his  march  to  glory. 

In  your  death, — There  is  at  least  one  great  oc- 
casion in  the  life  of  every  man  ;  there  is  one  deci- 
sive act  that  tries  the  spirit,  and  puts  the  destinies  of 
the  soul  at  issue.  Neither  the  skeptic's  wavering 
confidence  nor  the  duellist's  blind  temerity  befits  this 
dread  solemnity.  The  wretch  that  thrusts  himself 
into  his  Maker's  presence,  and  the  wretch  who,  be- 
ing called  for,  dares,  without  preparation  and  with- 
out concern,  to  enter  it,  deserves  alike  our  reproba- 
tion. The  one  resembles  the  maniac  who  leaps 
the  precipice  ;  the  other,  the  sot  who  stagi^ers  off  it, 
regardless  of  its  height,  and  unmindful  of  the  shock 
that  awaits  his  fall.  From  such  spectacles  of  self- 
destruction,  the  mind  turns  away  with  mingled  emo- 


124  STEPHEN,   ELIJAH,   PAUL. 

tions  of  pity,  disgust,  and  horror.  How  unlike  the 
good  man's  death.  Here  there  is  real  majesty. 
Nothing  below  exceeds,  nothing  equals  it.  To  see 
a  human  being  crowded  to  the  verge  of  life,  and 
standing  on  that  line  that  connects  and  divides  eter- 
nity and  time,  excites  a  solemn  interest.  But  oh  ! 
what  words  can  express  the  grandeur  of  the  death- 
scene,  when  the  individual  about  to  make  the  dread 
experiment,  sensible  of  his  condition,  and  with  heav- 
en and  hell,  judgment  and  eternity  full  in  view,  is 
calm,  collected,  confident ;  and,  relying  on  the  mer- 
its of  his  Saviour  and  the  faithfulness  of  his  God,  is 
eager  to  depart !  Perhaps  the  sainted  Stephen  here 
occurs  to  mind  :  Stephen,  with  heaven  beaming 
from  his  countenance,  as,  sinking  under  the  pressure 
of  his  enemies,  he  raises  his  dying  eyes  to  glory, 
and  says,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit."  Per- 
haps the  Israelitish  prophet,  as,  dropping  his  conse- 
crated mantle  on  his  pupil,  he  mounts  the  whirlwind 
from  the  banks  of  Jordan  ;  or  perhaps  Saul  of  Tar- 
sus, exclaiming,  in  prospect  of  the  fires  of  martyr- 
dom, "  I  am  ready  to  be  offered  up ;  I  have  fought 
the  good  fight ;  I  have  kept  the  faith  ;  and  there  is 
henceforth  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness, 
which  the  righteous  Lord  will  dehver  unto  me  ;  and 
not  to  me  only,  but  to  all  those  that  love  his  appear* 
ing." 

"  How  our  hearts  burn  within  us  at  the  scene  ! 
Whence  this  brave  bound  o'er  limits  set  to  man? 
His  God  supports  him  in  his  final  hour. 
His  final  hour  brings  glory  to  his  God. 
We  gaze,  we  weep  mix'd  tears  of  grief  ai"»d  joy; 
Amazement  strikes  ;  devotion  burns  to  flame  ; 
Christians  admiro,  and  infidels  believe." 


HONOUR  INCOMPATIBLE  WITH  SIN.   125 

I  repeat,  young  gentlemen,  in  concluding  this  ad- 
dress, a  remark  which  was  made  at  its  commence- 
ment. Though  honour  and  religion  are  disiincU 
they  are  allied,  and  there  can  be  no  high  attainments 
in  the  one  imthout  corresponding  attainments  in  the 
other.  Strictly  speaking,  there  is  not  in  the  uni- 
verse, nor  is  it  possible  that  there  ever  should  be, 
such  a  being  as  an  honourable  sinner.  A  sinner 
may  indeed,  and  often  does,  perform  actions  which 
seem  to  indicate  lofty  and  honourable  sentiments. 
A  factitious  splendour  is  thus  flung  around  his  per- 
son, which  may,  till  death,  emblazon  his  character. 
The  light  of  eternity,  however,  will  dissipate  that 
splendour.  Then  the  mean  and  mercenary  motives 
which  governed  him  will  appear ;  and,  appearing, 
will  betray  to  the  just  appraisers  of  merit  in  heav- 
en a  very  wretch,  in  the  person  of  one  whom  the 
blinded  inhabitants  of  earih  delighted  to  honour.  In 
that  light  the  duellist,  now  pitied  for  his  sensibility 
or  celebrated  for  his  courage,  will  be  seen  to  have 
been  either  a  trembling  coward,  who  wanted  nerve 
to  endure  a  sneer,  or  a  malicious  murderer,  who, 
could  he  have  as  certainly  escaped  the  gallows, 
would  have  employed,  not  the  soldier's,  but  the  as- 
sassin's weapon  in  his  work  of  death.  In  that  light 
many  a  sainted  patriot  will  be  discovered  to  have 
been  only  a  wily  traitor ;  and  in  many  a  titled  con- 
queror there  will  be  recognised  only  the  grim  and 
ferocious  visage  of  a  human  butcher. 

It  is  not  the  outward  action,  but  the  inward  mo- 
live,  that  will  in  heaven  secure  the  plaudit.  To  you 
all  the  path  of  honour  is  open,  because  the  path  of 


/ 

126        VIRTUE    ALONE    CONFERS    HONOUR. 

duty  is  so.  Those  titles  and  distinctions  wliirli  little 
minds  look  up  to  and  covet  are  merely  adventitious. 
Neither  the  bishop's  lawn  nor  the  judge's  ermine 
confers  any  real  dignity.  He  only  on  the  bench 
who  imitates  the  justice  of  that  awful  Being  who  is 
himself  a  terror  to  the  wicked  ;  he  only  at  the  altar 
who  imitates  the  clemency  of  that  merciful  Being  who 
is  the  consolation  of  the  righteous ;  he  only  in  the 
field  who  has  drawn  his  sword  from  principle,  and 
from  principle  risks  his  life  in  defence  of  the  people 
and  the  cities  of  his  God,  will,  in  ihe  consummation 
of  all  things,  be  accounted  an  honourable  man.  Let 
the  ferocious  savage  present  his  crimsoned  toma- 
hawk as  he  mutters  his  orisons  to  the  demons  of 
destruction,  and  boa.st  of  the  sculls  he  has  severed 
and  the  scalps  he  has  strung ;  but  let  not  the  Chris- 
tian victor  count  on  glory  achieved  by  cruelty.  The 
God  of  Christians  smiles  not  at  carnage,  delights 
not  in  blood.  Nor  is  glory  to  be  gathered  only  on 
the  public  theatre  or  in  the  tented  field.  You  may 
lead  an  obscure  life,  and  yet  an  honourable  one. 
There  is  in  the  cottage,  no  less  than  in  the  palace, 
a  majesty  in  virtue.  In  presiding  over  the  devotions 
of  the  parental  board  ;  in  the  morning  prayer,  in  the 
evening  anthem  ;  in  those  acts  of  supplication  and 
praise  by  which  the  soul  mounts  upward  to  the 
throne,  and  enters  the  presence  of  the  God  of  heav- 
en, there  is  an  honour  inferior  in  degree,  but  not  in 
nature,  to  that  which  principalities  and  powers  enjoy. 
If  the  favour  of  princes  confer  distinction  on  those 
around  their  persons,  what  must  be  the  distinction  ol 


SANCTIFYING    POWER    OF    RELIGION.     127 

♦.hat  contrite  man  in  whom  the  spirit  dwells,  and 
whom  the  Father  deliiijhts  to  honour ! 

That  it  sanctifies  the  soul,  that  it  brings  peace  to 
the  conscience,  these  are,  indeed,  the  grand  prerog- 
atives of  our  religion  ;  but  they  are  not  its  only  pre- 
rogatives. The  gospel  of  grace  is  rich  in  honour 
as  well  as  rich  in  consolation.  Its  high  purpose  is 
to  recover  the  sinner  from  his  apostacy,  and  to  sig- 
nalize him  hereafter  among  the  sons  of  God.  But, 
in  attaining  this  purpose,  and  as  incidental  to  it,  it 
does  signalize  him  here  among  the  children  of  men. 
There  is  no  illumination  so  divine  a^  the  illumina- 
tion of  the  spirit ;  there  are  no  virtues  so  divine  as 
the  graces  of  the  spirit;  nor  is  there  any  march  so 
truly  glorious  as  the  march  through  faith  and  pa- 
tience to  immortality. 

Go,  young  gentlemen  ;  aim  at  being  great  only 
by  being  good ;  and  hope  to  be  good  only  by  con- 
fiding in  that  glorious  Redeemer,  through  whose 
merits  alone  it  is  possible  that  a  sinner  should  be- 
come so. 

God  grant  you  this  grace,  and  to  his  name  shall 
be  the  glory. 


128  PUBLIC    OPINION. 

VIII. 

DELIVERED    JULY  27,    1814. 

[Public  Opinion  as  opposed  to  the  Moral  Law, — Games  of 
Chance.— Objectionable  because  they  unprofitably  consume 
Time. — Because  they  lead  to  a  misapplication  of  Property. — 
Because  they  impart  no  Expansion  or  Vigour  to  the  Mind.— 
Because  their  Influence  on  the  Affections  and  Passions  is  del- 
eterious.— Dreadful  Effect  of  Gaming  on  Morals  and  on  the 
Sympathies  of  our  Nature. — It  leads  to  Debauchery,  to  Ava- 
rice, to  Intemperance. — The  finished  Gambler  has  no  Heart. 
—  Example  of  Madame  du  Deffand, — Brutalized  and  hopeless 
State  of  the  Gambler  and  Drunkard. — Warning  to  Youth  to 
avoid  the  Temptations  which  lead  to  these  soul-destroying 
Vices.] 

Young  gentlerrijen,  man  is  susceptible  of  moral 
no  less  than  of  intellectual  improvement.  These 
are  the  two  grand  objects  of  collegiate  education. 
Hence  its  importance,  not  only  to  the  individual,  but 
to  community  itself. 

No  matter  what  the  printed  code  of  civil  law  may 
be  in  any  country — no  matter  what  the  printed  code 
of  canon  law  may  be,  to  an  immense  majority,  pub- 
lic opinion  constitutes  a  standard  of  paramount  au- 
thority. But  public  opinion  itself  is  directed  and 
settled  among  the  many  by  the  few,  who,  either  by 
merit  or  by  management,  have  acquired  an  ascend- 
ancy, and  become  the  acknowledged  arbiters  of 
faith  and  of  practice.  Some  of  the  points  where 
the  moral  law  and  public  opinion  are  at  issue,  have 
on  similar  occasions  been  discussed ;  there  are  still 
other  points  which  demand  discussion. 


GAMES    OF    CHANCE.  129 

A  good  man  regulates  even  his  amusements,  no 
less  than  his  serious  occupations,  by  the  maxims  of 
morullity.  Be  ye  perfect  as  I  am  perfect  is  the  un- 
quahfied  mandate  of  the  Christian  lawgiver ;  and 
till  we  are  perfect  as  He  is  perfect,  we  never  attain 
that  sublime  distinction,  to  which,  as  candidates  for 
heaven,  we  should  fur  ever  be  aspiring. 

About  to  bid  adieu  to  this  seat  of  science,  per- 
mit me  to  admonish  you,  that  it  will  be  your  part  not 
to  receive  a  tone  from,  but  to  give  a  tone  to  public 
feeling ;  not  to  learn  those  lessons  of  morality  which 
the  world  will  inculcate,  but  to  inculcate  on  the 
world  those  lessons  which  you  have  elsewhere 
learned. 

We  have  a  collegiate  law  which  prohibits  card- 
playing,  and  the  other  fashionable  games  related  to 
it.  In  future  life,  let  this  law  be  adopted  as  one  of 
those  inviolable  rules  of  action  which,  being  irrevo- 
cably settled,  are  not  to  be  transgressed.  Why  ? 
Because  the  transgression  of  it  in  you,  whatever  it 
may  be  in  others,  will  be  improper.  Do  not  mis- 
take my  meaning ;  I  am  not  about  to  insist  on  any 
argument  drawn  from  the  supposed  sacredness  of 
games  of  chance. 

But,  if  these  games  are  not  objectionable  as  games 
of  chance,  why  are  they  objectionable  ? 

To  this  question  I  will  attempt  an  answer.  Be- 
fore I  commence,  however,  I  would  premise,  that 
nothing  is  more  foreign  from  my  design  than  to 
hold  up  to  universal  obloquy  all  those  who  occasion- 
ally indulge  in  any  of  these  games.  That  candour, 
which  on  all  occasions  I  would  wish  to  exercise 
L 


130  CHARITABLE    JUDGMENT. 

as  well  as  inculcate,  obliges  me  to  concede,  that 
there  may  be  found,  among  the  groups  at  the  chess- 
board or  the  card-table,  individuals  of  very  respect- 
able character ;  in  other  particulars,  of  irreproach- 
able morals,  and  even,  perhaps,  of  exemplary  piety. 
But  they  are  individuals,  notwithstanding,  whom  I 
believe  to   be  in  error.      Individuals   whom   public 
opinion  has  misguided,  and  who,  like  that  apostle 
who  thought  he  d.d  God  service,  have  this  apology, 
they  sin  ignorantly.      Their  situation,   in  a   moral 
point  of  view,  is  similar  to  his,  who,  in  a  country 
where  slavery  is  common,  inconsiderately  holds  a 
fellow-creature  in  bondage.      Were  dial  practice  the 
subject  of  discussion — far  from  comprehending  in 
the  same  sweeping  sentence  of  reprobation  the  hu 
mane  master  who  treats  with  paternal  indulgence 
the  blacks  he  inherited  from  his  father,  without  eve* 
suspecting  that  they  are  not  as  rightfully  his  property 
as  the  sheep  and  oxen  which  he  also  inherited — far 
from  comprehending  this  man  in  the  same  sweeping 
sentence  of  reprobation  with  ihe  unfeeling  wretch 
who,  in  despite  of  conscience,  of  reason,  and  of  law, 
still  drives  that  trade,  which  he  knows  to  be  a  fel- 
ony, and  deliberately  amasses  a  fortune  by  the  sale 
of  human  blood — far  from  comprehending  this  man 
in  the  same  sentence,  I  could,  on  the  contrary,  ad- 
mit that  he  might  be  a  philanthropist,  and  even,  in 
the  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  a  Christian.     But, 
having  made  this  admission,  were  I  called  to  speak 
in  his  presence  of  slavery,  I  would  speak  of  it  as  a 
man  and  a  Christian  ought  to  speak  of  it,  with  utter 
detestation ;  and  in  the  same  manner  I  mean  to 


WASTE    OF    TIME.  131 

speak  of  gaming.  No  matter  how  many  fashion- 
able people  may  be  implicated,  no  matter  how 
many  of  my  own  personal  friends  may  be  implica- 
ted, I  have  a  duty  to  perform,  and  I  shall  neither  be 
allured  nor  awed  from  the  performance  of  it.  The 
question  now  returns,  Why  are  these  games  ob- 
jectionable ? 

They  are  objectionable  because  they  unprqfitably 
consume  time,  which  to  every  man  is  precious  :  be- 
cause they  lead  to  a  misapplication  of  property,  for 
which  every  man  is  accountable  :  because  they  im- 
part no  expansion  or  vigour  to  the  mind ;  and  be- 
cause their  influence  on  the  affections,  and  passions, 
and  heart,  is  deleterious. 

1st.  Because  they  unprofitably  consume  lime, 
which  to  every  man  is  precious.  Had  I  your  future 
lives  at  my  disposal,  I  would  not  wish  to  impose  on 
you  any  unreasonable  austerity.  There  must  be 
seasons  of  relaxation  as  well  as  seasons  of  exertion. 
Rest  necessarily  follows  action,  and  is  in  its  turn 
conducive  to  it.  It  is  conceded  that  a  student  needs 
recreation  of  mind  ;  but  the  card-table  does  not  fur- 
nish him  with  it.  He  needs  exercise  of  body ; 
neither  does  it  furnish  him  with  that.  With  what, 
then,  that  is  worth  having,  does  it  furnish  him? 
With  nothing.  From  hours  thus  spent  there  is  no 
result  beneficial  to  himself  or  to  any  other  human 
being.  The  time  elapsed  is  wasted.  To  all  the 
useful  purposes  of  life,  of  death,  or  of  existence  after 
death,  it  is  as  though  it  had  never  been. 

But  who,  during  a  trial  so  momentous  and  so 
transitory,  has  vacant  hours  at  his  disposal  ?     Has 


132  MISAPPLICATION    OF    PROPERTY. 

the  young  man  preparing  for  action  ?  Has  the  old 
man  sinking  down  to  death  1  Has  the  father, 
charged  with  the  education  of  his  sons  1  Has  the 
mother,  intrusted  with  the  instruction  of  her  daugh- 
ters 1  Ah  !  could  I  address  these  eternal  idlers  with 
the  same  freedom  that  I  address  myself  to  you,  I 
would  ask  them  whether  so  many  hours  were  given 
to  play  because  there  no  longer  remained  to  them 
any  duties  to  be  performed  1  I  would  ask  them, 
are  the  hungry  fed  ]  Are  the  naked  clothed  ?  Are 
the  sick  visited  1  Is  the  mourner  consoled  ?  Is  the 
orphan  provided  for  ?  Are  all  the  offices  of  friend- 
ship and  of  charity  executed  ?  Are  all  the  demands 
of  the  closet  and  of  the  altar  cancelled  ^  All,  all 
cancelled  !  And  yet,  as  successive  days  glide  away, 
does  there  remain  in  each  such  a  dismal  void  to  be 
filled  with  the  frivolous,  not  to  say  guilty,  amuse- 
ments of  the  card-table  ?  Perhaps  it  is  so.  But, 
oh  God  !  thou  knowest  it  was  not  thus  with  those 
saints  of  old  whom  thou  hast  held  up  to  us  as  ex- 
amples. Their  time  was  wholly  occupied.  With 
labours  of  love  each  day  was  filled  up.  Nor  were 
their  evenings  devoted  to  play  :  nay,  nor  even  their 
nights  to  repose.  Often,  for  the  performance  of 
omitted  duties,  hours  were  borrowed  from  the  sea- 
son of  rest  which  the  shortness  of  the  season  of 
action  had  denied. 

2d.  Because  they  lead  to  a  misapplication  of  prop- 
erty. Games  of  hazard,  particularly  where  cards 
are  concerned,  tend  imperceptibly  to  gambling. 

Play  at  first  is  resorted  to  as  a  pastime,  and  the 
gamester  becomes  an  idler  only.     This  is  the  in- 


PLAYING   FOR   MONEY.  133 

coptive  step.  But  mere  play  has  not  enough  of  in- 
terest in  it  to  excite  continued  attention,  even  in  the 
most  frivolous  minds.  To  supply  this  defect,  the 
passion  of  avarice  is  addressed  by  the  intervention 
of  a  trifling  stake.  This  is  the  second  step.  The 
third  is  deep  and  presumptuous  gambling ;  here,  all 
that  the  adventurer  can  command  is  hazarded,  and 
gain^  not  amusement,  becomes  the  powerful  motive 
that  inspires  him.  These  are  the  stages  of  play  at 
cards :  that  delusive  and  treacherous  science  which 
has  beggared  so  many  families,  made  so  many  youth 
profligates,  and  blasted  for  ever  so  many  parents' 
hopes. 

But  is  a  stake  at  play  wrong  in  principle  1  It  is 
so.  Nor  is  the  nature  of  the  transaction  changed 
by  any  increase  or  diminution  of  amount.  Not  that 
it  is  a  crime  to  hazard,  but  to  hazard  wrongfully ; 
to  hazard  where  no  law  authorizes  it ;  where  neither 
individual  prudence,  nor  any  principle  of  public 
policy  requires  it.  Property  is  a  trust,  and  the  hold- 
er is  responsible  for  its  use.  He  may  employ  it  in 
trade  ;  he  may  give  it  away  in  charity,  but  he  may 
not  wantonly  squander  it :  he  may  not  even  lightly 
hazard  the  loss  of  it  for  no  useful  purpose,  where 
there  is  no  probability  that  the  transaction  will,  on 
the  whole,  bo  beneficial,  either  to  the  parties  or  the 
community. 

But  I  may  not  pass  thus  lightly  over  this  subject. 
The  nature  of  gambling,  considered  as  an  occupa- 
tion, and  the  relative  situation  of  gamblers,  ought  to 
be  attended  to.  The  issue  which  the  parties  join, 
the  rivalship  in  which  thev  engage,  neither  directly 


134  GAMBLERS. 

nor  indirectly  promote  any  interest  of  commuriity. 
They  have  no  relation  to  agriculture,  none  to  com- 
merce, none  to  manufactures.  They  furnish  no 
bread  to  the  poor,  hold  out  no  motive  to  industry, 
apply  no  stimulus  to  enterprise.  Gaming  is  an  em- 
ployment sui  generis.  The  talent  it  occupies  is  so 
much  deducted  from  that  intelligence  which  super- 
intends the  concerns  of  the  world  ;  the  capital  it 
employs  is  so  much  withdrawn  from  the  stock  re- 
quired for  the  commerce  of  the  world.  Let  the 
stake  be  gained  or  lost,  as  it  will,  society  gains  no- 
thing. The  managers  of  this  ill-appropriated  fund 
are  not  identified  in  their  pursuits  with  any  of  those 
classes  whose  ingenuity  or  whose  labours  benefit 
society ;  nor  by  any  of  those  rapid  changes  through 
which  their  treasure  passes  is  there  anything  pro- 
duced by  which  community  is  indemnified. 

The  situation  of  gamblers  with  respect  to  each 
other  is  as  singular  and  unnatural  as  their  situation 
with  respect  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  Here,  again, 
the  order  of  nature  is  reversed,  the  constitution  of 
God  is  subverted,  and.  an  association  is  formed,  not 
for  mutual  benefit,  but  for.  acknowledged  mutual  in- 
jury. Precisely  as  much  as  the  one  gains,  the  oth- 
er loses.  No  equivalent  is  given,  none  is  received. 
The  property  indeed  changes  hands,  but  its  quality 
is  not  improved,  its  amount  is  not  augmented. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  one  who  loses  is  a  profli- 
gate, who  throws  away,  without  any  requital,  the 
property  he  possesses.  The  one  who  gains  is  a 
ruffian,  who  pounces  like  a  vulture  on  property  which 
he  possesses  not,  and  which  he  has  acquired  no  right 


WASTE    OF    TIME    BY    GAMING.  135 

10  possess  ;  while  both  are  useless  members  of  so- 
ciety —  mere  excrescences  on  the  body  politic. 
Worse  than  this,  they  are  a  nuisance ;  like  leeches 
on  the  body  of  some  mighty  and  vigorous  animal, 
which,  though  they  suck  their  aliment  from  its  blood, 
contribute  nothing  to  its  nourishment.  No  matter 
how  numerous  these  vagabonds  (for  1  will  not  call 
them  by  a  more  reputable  name)  may  be  in  any 
community ;  no  matter  how  long  they  may  hve,  or 
how  assiduously  they  may  prosecute  their  vocation. 
No  monument  of  good,  the  product  of  that  vocation, 
will  remain  behind  them.  They  will  be  remem- 
bered only  by  the  waste  they  have  commited  or  the 
injury  they  have  done  ;  while,  with  respect  to  all  the 
useful  purposes  of  being,  it  will  be  as  if  they  had 
never  been. 

And  is  there  no  guilt  in  such  an  application  of 
property  as  this  1  Did  Almighty  God  place  man- 
kind here  for  an  occupation  so  n)ean  ?  Did  he  be- 
stow on  them  treasures  for  an  end  so  ignoble  ?  It 
Jesus  Christ  condemned  to  outer  darkne-s  that  un- 
profitable servant  who,  having  wrapped  his  talent  in 
a  napkin  only,  buried  it  in  the  earth,  what  think  yot 
will  be  his  sentence  on  the  profligate,  who,  having 
staked  and  lost  his  all,  goes  from  the  gaming-table, 
a  self-created  pauper,  to  the  judgment-seat.  Nor 
will  the  Judge  less  scrupulously  require  an  account 
of  the  cents  you  have  for  amusement  put  down  at 
piquet,  than  he  would  had  you  played  e  way  at  brag 
the  entire  amount  of  the  shekel  of  the  sanctuary. 

But  you  do  not  mean  to  gamble  nor  to  advocate 
it.     I  know  you  do  not.     But  I  abo  know,  if  you 


136      PROGRESS  OF  THE  GAMBLER. 

play  at  all,  you  will  ultimately  do  both.  It  is  but 
a  line  that  separates  between  innocence  and  sin. 
Whoever  fearlessly  approaches  this  line  will  soon 
have  crossed  it.  To  keep  at  a  distance,  therefore, 
is  the  part  of  wisdom.  No  man  ever  made  up  his 
mind  to  consign  to  perdition  his  soul  at  once.  No 
man  ever  entered  the  known  avenues  which  conduct 
to  such  an  end  with  a  firm  and  undaunted  step. 
The  brink  of  ruin  is  approached  with  caution,  and 
by  imperceptible  degrees  ;  and  the  wretch  who  now 
stands  fearlessly  scoffing  there,  but  yesterday  had 
shrunk  back  from  the  awful  cliff  with  trembling. 
Do  you  wish  for  illustration  ?  The  profligate's  un- 
written history  will  furnish  it.  How  inoffensive  its 
commencement,  how  sudden  and  how  frightful  its 
catastrophe !  Let  us  review  his  life.  He  com- 
mences with  play ;  but  it  is  only  for  amusement. 
Next  he  hazards  a  trifle  to  give  interest,  and  is  sur- 
prised when  he  finds  himself  a  gainer  by  the  hazard. 
He  then  ventures,  not  without  misgivings,  on  a 
deeper  stake.  That  stake  he  loses.  The  loss 
and  the  guilt  oppress  him.  He  drinks  to  revive  his 
spirits.  His  spirits  revived,  he  stakes  to  retrieve 
his  f4)rtune.  Again  he  is  unsuccessful,  and  again 
his  spirits  flag,  and  again  the  inebriating  cup  revives 
them.  Ere  he  is  aware  of  it,  he  has  become  a 
drunkard  ;  he  has  also  become  a  bankrupt.  Re- 
sovnxe  fails  him.  His  fortune  is  gone ;  his  char- 
acter is  gone  ;  his  tenderness  of  conscience  is  gone. 
God  has  withdrawn  his  spirit  from  him.  The  de- 
mon of  despair  takes  possession  of  his  bosom;  rea- 
son deserts  him.     He  becomes  a  maniac  ;  the  pis* 


CORRUPTING  EFFECTS  OF  GAMING.   137 

tol  or  the  poniard  closes  the  scene ;  and  with  a 
shiiek  he  plunges,  unwept  and  forgotten,  into — hell. 

But  there  are  other  lights  in  which  this  subject 
should  be  viewed.  The  proper  aliment  of  the  body 
is  ascertained  by  its  effects.  Whatever  is  nutritious 
is  selected;  whatever  is  poisonous,  avoided.  Let 
a  man  of  common  prudence  perceive  the  deleteri- 
ous effects  of  any  fruit,  however  fair  to  the  eye, 
however  sweet  to  the  taste ;  let  him  perceive  these 
effects  in  the  haggard  countenances  and  swollen 
limbs  of  those  who  have  been  partaking  of  it,  and, 
although  he  may  not  be  able  to  discover  wherein  its 
poisonous  nature  consists,  he  admits  that  it  is  poi- 
sonous, and  shrinks  from  participating  in  a  repast  in 
which  some  secret  venom  lurks,  that  has  proved  fatal 
to  many,  and  injurious  to  most  who  have  hitherto  tast- 
ed it.  Why  should  not  the  same  circumspection  be 
used  with  respect  to  the  aliment  of  the  mind  1  It 
undoubtedly  should.  But  gaming  presents  even  a 
stronger  case  than  the  one  we  have  supposed ;  for 
not  only  the  fact,  but  the  reason  of  it  is  obvious ;  so 
that  we  may  repeat  what  has  been  already  said  of 
games  of  hazard  :  they  impart  little  or  no  expansion 
or  vigour  to  the  mind;  and  their  influence  on  the 
affections,  and  passions,  and  heart  is  deleterious. 

W^hen  I  affirm  that  these  games  impart  little  or 
no  expansion  or  vigour  to  the  mind,  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  understood  that  they  are  or  can  be  performed 
entirely  without  intellection.  It  is  conceded  that 
the  silliest  game  requires  some  understanding,  and 
that  to  play  at  it  is  above  the  capacity  of  an  oyster, 
Qr  even  of  an  ox,  or  of  an  aue.     It  is  conceded,  too, 


138  STUPIDITY    OF    GAMING. 

that  games  of  every  sort  require  some  study;  the 
most  of  tiiem,  however,  require  but  little  ;  and,  after 
the  few  tiist  efforts,  the  intellectual  condition  of  the 
gamester,  so  far  as  his  occupation  is  concerned,  is 
but  one  degree  removed  from  that  of  the  dray-horse 
buckled  to  his  harness,  and  treading  over  from  day 
to  day,  and  from  night  to  night,  the  same  dull  track, 
as  he  turns  a  machine  which  some  mind  of  a  higher 
order  has  invented.  So  very  humble  is  this  species 
of  occupation  ;  so  very  limited  the  sphere  in  which 
it  allows  the  mind  to  operate,  that,  if  any  individual 
were  to  remain  through  the  term  of  his  existence 
mute  and  motionless — in  the  winter  state  of  the 
Norwegian  bear — his  intellectual  career  would  be 
about  as  splendid,  and  his  attainments  in  knowledge 
about  as  great  as  they  would  were  he  to  commence 
play  at  childhood,  and  continue  on  at  whist  or  loo 
through  eternity.  For,  though  the  latter  state  of  be- 
ing presupposes  some  exercise  of  the  mental  facul 
ties,  it  is  so  little,  so  low,  and  so  uniform,  that,  if  the 
result  be  not  literally  nothing,  it  approaches  nearer 
to  it  than  the  result  of  any  other  state  of  being  to 
which  an  intelligent  creature  can  be  doomed  short 
of  absolute  inanity  or  death. 

How  unlike  in  its  effect  must  be  this  unmeaning 
shuffle  of  cards,  this  eternal  gazing  on  the  party- 
coloured  surface  of  a  few  small  pieces  of  [)asteboard, 
where  nothing  but  spades,  and  hearts,  and  diamonds, 
and  clubs,  over  and  over  again,  every  hour  of  the 
day,  every  hour  of  the  night,  meet  the  sleepless  eye 
of  the  vacant  beholder  :  how  unlike  must  be  the  ef- 
fect of  this  pitiful  employment,  continued  for  fifty  or 


NEWTON,  BACON,  PALEF.  139 

for  seventy  years,  to  that  which  would  have  been 
produced  on  the  same  mind  in  the  same  period  by 
following  the  track  of  Newton  to  those  sublime  re- 
sults, whither  he  has  led  the  way,  in  the  regions  of 
abstraction  ;  by  communing  whh  tlie  soul  of  Bacon, 
deducing  from  individual  facts  the  universal  laws  of 
the  material  universe  ;  or  by  mounting  with  Her- 
schel  to  the  Atheneum  of  the  firmament,  and  there 
learning,  direct  from  the  volume  of  the  stars,  the 
science  of  astronomy  ?  How  unlike  to  that  which 
would  have  been  produced  in  the  same  period  by 
ranging  with  Paley  through  the  department  of  mor- 
als ;  by  soaring  with  Hervey  on  the  wing  of  devo- 
tion ;  or  even  by  tracing  the  footsteps  of  Tooke 
amid  the  mazes  of  philology  ? 

Card-playing  has  not  even  the  merit  of  the  com- 
mon chit-chat  of  the  tea-table.  Here  there  is  some 
scope  for  reason,  some  for  the  play  of  fancy,  some 
occasion  for  mental  effort,  some  tendency  to  habits 
of  quick  association,  in  attack,  in  repartee,  and  in  the 
various  turns  resorted  to  for  keeping  up  and  enliven- 
ing conversation.  Much  less  has  it  the  merit  of 
higher  and  more  rational  discourse,  of  music,  of 
painting,  or  of  reading. 

Indeed,  if  an  occupation  were  demanded  for  the 
express  purpose  of  perverting  the  human  intellect ; 
for  humbling,  and  degrading,  and  narrowing,  I  had 
almost  said  annihilating,  the  soul  of  man,  one  more 
effectual  could  not  well  be  devised  than  the  game- 
ster has  already  devised  and  resorted  to.  The  fa- 
ther and  mother  of  a  family,  who,  instead  of  assem- 
bling their  children  in  the  reading-room  or  condfict- 


140  SUBLIME    USES    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

ing  them  to  the  altar,  seat  them  night  after  night  be- 
side themselves  at  the  gaming-table,  do,  so  far  as 
this  part  of  their  domestic  economy  is  concerned, 
contribute  not  only  to  quench  their  piety,  but  also  to 
extinguish  their  intellect,  and  convert  them  into  au- 
tomatons, living  mummies,  the  mere  mechanical 
members  of  a  domestic  gambling- machine,  which, 
though  but  litde  soul  is  necessary,  requires  a  num- 
ber of  human  hands  to  work  it ;  and  if,  under  such 
a  blighting  culture,  they  do  not  degenerate  into  a 
state  of  mere  mechanical  existence,  and,  gradually 
losing  their  reason,  their  taste,  and  their  fancy,  be- 
come incapable  of  conversation,  the  fortunate  pa- 
rents may  thank  the  schoolhouse,  the  church,  the 
library,  the  society  of  friends,  or  some  other  and  less 
wretched  part  of  their  own  defective  system  for 
preventing  so  frightful  a  consummation. 

Such,  young  gentlemen,  are  the  morbid  and  de- 
grading effects  of  play  on  the  human  intellect.  But 
intelligence  constitutes  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the 
glory  of  man  ;  a  glory  which,  unless  eclipsed  by 
crime,  increases  as  intelligence  increases.  Knowl- 
edge is  desirable  with  reference  to  this  world,  but 
principally  so  with  reference  to  the  next.  Not  that 
philosophy,  or  language,  or  mathematics  will  cer- 
tainly be  pursued  in  heaven ;  but  because  the  pur- 
suit of  them  on  earth  gradually  communicates  that 
quickness  of  perception,  that  acumen,  which,  as  it 
increases,  approximates  towards  the  sublime  and 
sudden  intuition  of  celestial  intelligences,  and  which 
cannot  fail  to  render  more  splendid  the  commence- 
ment and  the  progression  of  man's  interminable  ca- 
reer. 


EFFECT  OF  GAMING  ON  THE  HEART.   141 

But,  while  gaming  leaves  the  mind  to  languish,  it 
produces  its  full  effect  on  the  passions  and  on  the 
heart.  Here,  however,  the  effect  is  positively  del- 
eterious. None  of  the  sweet  and  amiable  sympa- 
thies are  called  into  action  at  the  card-table.  No 
throb  of  ingenuous  and  philanthropic  feeling  is  ex- 
cited by  this  detestable  expedient  for  killing  time,  as 
it  is  called  ;  and  it  is  righdy  so  called,  for  many  a 
murdered  hour  will  witness  at  the  day  of  judgment 
against  that  fashionable  idler  who  divides  her  time 
between  her  toilet  and  the  card-table,  no  less  than 
against  the  profligate,  hackneyed  in  the  ways  of  sin, 
^nd  steeped  in  all  the  filth  and  debauchery  connect- 
ed with  gambling.  But  it  is  only  amid  the  filth  and 
debauchery  connected  with  gambling  that  the  full 
effects  of  card-playing  on  the  passions  and  on  the 
heart  of  man  are  seen. 

Here  the  mutual  amity  that  elsewhere  subsists 
ceases  ;  paternal  affection  ceases  ;  even  that  com- 
munity of  feeling  which  piracy  excites,  and  which 
binds  the  very  banditti  together,  has  no  room  to  op- 
erate ;  for  at  this  inhospitable  board  every  man's  in- 
terest clashes  with  every  other  man's  interest,  and 
every  man's  hand  is  literally  against  every  man. 

The  love  of  mastery  and  the  love  of  money  are 
the  purest  motives  of  which  the  gamester  is  suscep- 
tible. And  even  the  love  of  mastery  loses  all  its 
nobleness,  and  degenerates  into  the  love  of  lucre, 
which  ultimately  predominates,  and  becomes  the 
ruling  passion. 

Avarice  is  always  base  ;  but  the  gamester's  ava- 
rice is  doubly  so.     It  is  avarice  unmixed  with  qny 


142  AVARICE    OF    THE    GAMBLER. 

ingredient  of  magnanimity  or  mercy.  Avarice  that 
wears  not  even  the  guise  of  public  spirit ;  that 
claims  not  even  the  meager  praise  of  hoarding  up 
its  own  hard  earnings.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  an 
avarice  that  wholly  feeds  upon  the  losses,  and  only 
delights  itself  with  the  miseries  of  others  ;  an  ava- 
rice that  eyes  with  covetous  desire  whatever  is  not 
individually  its  own ;  that  crouches  to  throw  its 
clutches  over  that  booty  by  which  its  comrades  are 
enriched ;  an  avarice,  in  short,  that  stoops  to  rob  a 
.  traveller,  that  sponges  a  guest,  and  that  would  filch 
the  very  dust  from  the  pocket  of  a  friend. 

But,  though  avarice  predominates,  other  related 
passions  are  called  into  action.  The  bosom  that 
was  once  serene  and  tranquil  becomes  habitually 
perturbed.  Envy  rankles,  jealousy  corrodes,  anger 
rages,  and  hope  and  fear  alternately  convulse  the 
system.  The  mildest  disposition  grows  morose ; 
the  sweetest  temper  becomes  fierce  and  fiery,  and 
all  the  once  amiable  features  of  the  heart  assume  a 
malignant  aspect.  Features  of  the  heart  did  I  say? 
Pardon  my  mistake.  The  finished  gambler  has  no 
heart.  Though  his  intellect  may  not  be,  though  his 
soul  may  not  be,  his  heart  is  quite  annihilated. 

Thus  habitual  gambling  consummates  what  habit- 
ual play  commences.  Sometimes  its  deadening  in- 
fluence prevails  even  over  female  virtue,  eclipsing 
all  the  loveliness  and  benumbing  all  the  sensibility 
of  woman.  In  every  circle  where  cards  form  the 
bond  of  union,  frivolity  and  heartlessness  become 
alike  characteristics  of  (he  mother  and  the  daughter  ; 
devotion  ceases ;  domestic  care  is  shaken  ofl^*,  and 


EXAMPLE    OF    MADAME    DU    JDEFFAND.      143 

the  dearest  friends,  even  before  their  burial,  are  con- 
signed to  oblivion. 

This  is  not  exaggeration.  I  appeal  to  fact. 
Madame  du  DefTand  was  certainly  not  among  the 
least  accomplished  or  the  least  interesting  females 
who  received  and  imparted  that  exquisite  tone  of  feel- 
ing that  pervaded  the  most  fashionable  society  of 
modern  Paris.  And  yet  it  is  recorded  of  her,  in  the 
correspondence  of  the  Baron  de  Grimm,  whose  vera- 
city will  not  be  questioned,  that,  immediately  after  the 
death  of  her  old  and  intimate  friend  and  admirer,  M. 
de  Ponte  de  Vesle,  this  celebrated  lady  attended  a 
great  supper  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  and  as  it  was 
known  that  she  made  it  a  point  of  honour  to  be  ac- 
companied by  him,  the  catastrophe  was  generally 
suspected.  She  mentioned  it,  however,  herself,  im- 
mediately after  entering ;  adding,  that  it  was  lucky 
he  had  gone  off  so  early  in  the  evening,  as  she  might 
otherwise  have  been  prevented  from  appearing.  She 
then  sat  down  to  table,  and  made  a  very  hearty  and 
merry  meal. 

Afterward,  when  Madame  de  Chatelet  died,  Ma- 
dame du  Deffand  testified  her  grief  for  the  most  inti- 
mate of  all  her  female  acquaintances  by  circulating, 
the  very  next  morning,  throughout  Paris,  the  most 
libellous  and  venomous  attack  on  her  person,  her 
understanding,  and  her  morals. 

This  utter  heartlessness,  this  entire  extinction  of 
native  feeling,  was  not  peculiar  to  Madame  du  Def- 
fand ;  it  pervaded  that  accomplished  and  fashionable 
circle  in  which  she  moved.  Hence  she  herself,  in 
turn,  experienced  the  same  kind  of  sympathy;  and 


144   RECKLESSNESS  OF  THE  GAMBLER. 

her  memory  was  consigned  to  the  same  instantaneous 
oblivion.  During  her  last  illness,  three  of  her  dear- 
est friends  used  to  come  and  play  cards  every  night 
by  the  side  of  her  couch ;  and  she  choosing  to  die 
in  the  middle  of  a  very  interesting  game,  they  quiet 
ly  played  it  out,  and  settled  their  accounts  before 
leaving  the  apartment.* 

I  do  not  say  that  such  are  the  uniform,  but  I  do 
say  that  such  are  the  natural  and  legitimate  effects 
of  gaming  on  the  female  character.  The  love  of 
play  is  a  demon,  which  only  takes  possession  as  it 
kills  the  heart.  But,  if  such  is  the  effect  of  gaming 
on  the  one  sex,  what  must  be  its  effect  upon  the 
other  ?  Will  nature  long  survive  in  bosoms  inva- 
ded not  by  gaming  only,  but  also  by  debauchery  and 
drunkenness,  those  sister  furies  which  hell  has  let 
loose,  to  cut  off*  our  young  men  from  without,  and 
our  children  from  the  streets  1  No,  it  will  not.  As 
we  have  said,  the  finished  gambler  has  no  heart.  The 
club  with  which  he  herds  would  meet  though  all  its 
members  were  in  mourning.  They  would  meet 
though  their  place  of  rendezvous  were  the  chamber 
of  the  dying ;  they  would  meet  though  it  wer<i  an 
apartment  in  the  charnel-house.  Not  even  the 
death  of  kindred  can  affect  the  gambler.  He  would 
play  upon  his  brother's  coffin  ;  he  would  play  upon 
his  father's  sepulchre. 

Yonder  see  that  wretch,  prematurely  old  in  infirm- 
ity as  well  as  sin.     He  is  the  father  of  a  family. 
The   mother  of  his   children,  lovely   in  her  tears, 
strives   by  the  tenderest  assiduities   to  restore  his 
*  See  Quarterly  Review. 


ULTIMATE  RESULTS  OF  GAMBLING.  145 

health,  and  with  it  to  restore  his  temperance,  his 
-love  of  home,  and  the  long-lost  charms  of  domestic 
life.  She  pursues  hmn  by  her  kindness  and  her  en- 
treaties to  his  haunts  of  vice  ;  she  reminds  him  of 
his  children  ;  she  tells  him  of  their  virtues,  of  their 
sorrows,  of  their  wants,  and  she  adjures  him,  by  the 
love  of  them  and  by  the  love  of  God,  to  repent  and 
to  return.  Vain  attempt!  She  might  as  well  ad- 
jure the  whirlwind ;  she  might  as  well  entreat  the 
tiger. 

The  brute  has  no  feeling  left.  He  turns  upon 
her  in  the  spirit  of  the  demons  vviih  which  he  is  pos- 
sessed. He  curses  his  children  and  her  who  bare 
them;  and,  as  he  prosecutes  his  game,  he  fills  the 
intervals  with  impre^cations  on  himself — with  impre- 
cations on  his  Maker — imprecations  borrowed  from 
the  dialect  of  devils,  and  uttered  with  a  tone  that 
befits  only  the  organs  of  the  damned !  And  yet  in 
this  monster  there  once  dwelt  the  spirit  of  a  man. 
He  had  talents,  he  had  honour,  he  had  even  faith. 
He  might  have  adorned  the  senate,  the  bar,  ihe  altar. 
But,  alas !  his  was  a  faith  that  saveth  not.  The 
gaming-table  has  robbed  him  of  it,  and  of  all  things 
else  that  is  worth  possessing.  What  a  frightful 
change  of  character  !  What  a  tremendous  wreck 
is  the  soul  of  man  in  ruins  ! 

Return,  disconsolate  mother,  to  thy  dwelling,  and 
be  submissive  ;  thou  shalt  be  a  widow,  and  thy  chil- 
dren fatherless.  Farther  effort  will  be  useless  :  the 
reformation  of  thy  partner  is  impossible.  God  has 
forsaken  him  ;  nor  will  good  angels  weep  or  watch 
over  him  any  more. 

M 


146  EXHORTATION    TO    YOUTH. 

Against  this  fashionable  amusement,  so  subver- 
sive of  virtue,  so  productive  of  guih,  so  inseparable 
from  misery,  I  adjure  you  to  bear,  at  all  times  and 
on  all  occasions,  a  decisiv3  testimony.  And  I  do 
this,  not  only  that  you  may  escape  destruction  your- 
selves, but  also  that  you  may  not  be  the  occasion  ot 
others'  destruction.  What  more  shall  I  say  1  For 
time  would  fail  me  to  point  out  all  the  dangers  that 
will  attend  your  steps,  or  to  enumerate  all  the  tempt- 
ations that  will  assail  your  virtue.  I  can  only,  there- 
fore, in  closing  this  address,  repeat  to  each  of  you 
that  summary  but  solemn  admonition  which  the 
royal  preacher  once  delivered  to  the  youth  of  Israel : 
'Rejoice,  oh  young  man,  in  thy  youth,  and  lei  thy 
heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  and  walk 
in  the  ivays  of  thine  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  thine 
eyes ;  but  knoio  thou  that  for  all  these  things  God 
will  bring  thee  into  judgment. 

Creator  of  our  souls,  Father  of  the  spirits  of  all 
living,  grant  to  our  youth  wisdom,  and  to  thy  name 
shall  be  the  glory  in  Christ.     Aimen, 


DUTY  AND  INTEREST  INSEPARABLE.  147 

IX. 

DELIVERED    JULY   S6,   1815. 

Skeptical  Notions  in  regard  to  the  Providence  of  God,  and  his  re- 
tributive Ju-stice. — The  condition  of  the  Virtuous  and  Vicious  in 
this  World  affords  no  argument  against  the  position  that  (^od 
will  reward  the  one  and  punish  the  other.— A  future  State  of 
Existence  is  certain,  and  must  be  taken  into  account  in  judging 
of  the  Character  and  Designs  of  God. — The  inward  Peace  en- 
joyed by  the  Virtuous,  and  the  Trouble  and  Remorse  experi- 
enced by  the  Vicious,  indications  of  God's  Moral  Govern- 
ment.— The  Trials  of  the  Righteous  intended  to  exalt  and  pu- 
rify their  Character. — Consolations  of  the  Righteous  in  the 
view  of  Death,  and  the  Happiness  that  awaits  them  in  a  fu- 
ture State  of  Being.] 

Young  gfintlemen,  the  God  of  righteousness  is 
the  friend  of  happiness.  Hence  man's  duty  and  his 
interest  are  inseparable.  This  has  sometimes  been 
doubted,  sometimes  even  expUcitly  denied.  In  re- 
mote antiquity  there  hved  those  who  said,  "  It  is  in 
vain  to  serve  God ;  and  what  profit  is  it  that  we  have 
kept  his  ordinances  V^ 

To  adopt  this  gloomy  hypothesis,  so  fatal  to  the 
eternal  interests  of  mankind,  was  not  peculiar  to 
those  who  lived  in  remote  antiquity.  Now,  as  for- 
merly, there  are  profane  men,  who,  with  respect  to 
all  the  rewards  of  virtue,  are  utter  skeptics.  Both 
experience  and  observation  are  appealed  to ;  and, 
as  if  this  transitory  life  were  the  whole  of  man,  it  is 
triumphantly  asserted.  That  the  proud  are  happy  ; 
that  those  who  work  wickedness  are  set  up^  and  those 
who  tempt  God  are  delivered. 


148  ERRORS    OF    SKEPTIClSlVi. 

Nor  is  it  profane  men  only  who  have  miscon- 
strued, and  who  still  misconstrue,  on  this  article,  the 
ways  of  Providence.  The  saint  of  Uz,  the  psalm- 
ist of  Israel,  and  even  Solomon  himself,  than  whom 
a  wiser  prince  has  not  lived,  were  embarrassed  at 
the  seeming  prosperity  of  the  wicked. 

A  bewildering  obscurity  does  indeed  hang  over 
this  part  of  the  Divine  Economy.  To  a  short-sight- 
ed and  superficial  observer,  that  balance  in  which  the 
actions  of  men  are  weighed  seems  to  be  held  with 
an  equal  hand.  To  say  the  least,  it  is  not  always 
and  at  every  stage  of  being,  apparent  that  God  re- 
gards the  righteous  more  than  the  wicked  ;  and  be- 
cause it  is  not  always  apparent,  men  of  perverse 
minds  presumptuously  infer  that  he  does  not. 

The  Divine  care,  say  they,  if  indeed  there  be  any 
Divine  care,  is  extended  alike  to  all.  No  partiality 
is  discoverable  in  the  distribution  of  His  most  pub- 
lic and  important  gifts.  Air,  and  water,  and  sun- 
shine are  as  free  as  they  are  abundant.  Does  food 
statedly  nourish,  and  sleep  refresh  the  pious  1  So 
they  do  the  impious.  The  flocks  of  the  latter  are 
as  vigorous,  their  pastures  are  as  green,  and  their 
husbandry  as  productive  as  those  of  the  former.  No 
flower  withers  as  the  sinner  plucks  it;  the  earth 
sinks  not  beneath  his  unhallowed  tread,  nor  does 
the  sun  avert  his  beams  from  his  heaven-directed  eye. 

If  God  be  the  re  warder  of  virtue,  why  do  trans- 
gressors live  1  And  yet  they  do  live  :  more  than 
this,  they  prosper.  Those  who  are  hampered  by 
the  restraints  of  duty  are  overthrown  by  them  ;  and 
through  crimes  and  blood  they  force  their  way  to 


WRONG  VIEWS  OF  THE  DIVINE  CHARACTER.  149 

place  and  power.  His  saints  cry  to  him,  but  he 
hears  them  not :  they  present  their  claim,  but  it  is 
disregarded.  Rags  cover  them,  and  they  are  fed 
with  the  bread  of  bitterness :  a  conclusive  evidence 
that  there  is  no  God,  or  that  virtue  is  of  little  estima- 
tion in  his  sight. 

Thus  argue  the  enemies  of  religion.  But  let  no 
young  adventurer,  no  aspiring  candidate  for  glory, 
be  misguided  by  it.  All  that  has  been  said  or  that 
can  be  said  in  favour  of  a  theory  so  humiliating  to 
man,  so  derogatory  to  God,  is  mere  sophistry  : 
sophistry  disguised,  indeed,  but  gross  and  palpable. 

Because  the  reward  of  virtue  is  not  in  every  in- 
stance simultaneous  with  the  act,  does  it  follow  that 
virtue  has  no  reward  ?  Waits  not  the  husbandman 
for  the  fruits  of  hi.s  industry  until  the  harvest  1  And 
yet  who  pretends  that  his  care  and  labour  are  thrown 
away  ?  No  one.  On  the  contrary,  all  say,  as  he 
goes  forth  weeping  to  scatter  the  precious  seed. 
Doubtless  he  ivill  return  rejoicing,  bearing  his  sheaves 
with  him.  Can  that  be  true  where  religion  is  con- 
cerned, that  would  be  false  with  respect  to  all  things 
else  ? 

Let  the  rash  theorist  remember  that  he  has  seen 
but  a  very  small  part  of  man's  existence,  and  that 
part,  too,  which  is  only  inceptive  and  preparatory. 
Conclusions  drawn  from  a  part  to  the  whole  are  al- 
ways defective,  and  in  this  instance  may  prove  as 
fatal  as  fallacious.  Be  it  remembered  that  the  race 
must  be  finished  ere  the  prize  is  won  ;  that  the  vic- 
tory must  be  achieved  before  it  can  be  expected  that 
the  crown  should  be  placed  on  the  victor's  brow. 


150  RETRIB.UTIVE    JUSTICE   OF    GOD. 

The  unjust  steward,  as  well  as  the  just,  retained  his 
talent  till  the  day  of  reckoning. 

It  is  not  the  equivocal  fact  of  having  been  intrust- 
ed with  a  few  pieces  of  money,  or  with  a  spot  of  earth 
a  httle  larger  than  others,  but  the  retribution  that  shall 
follow  the  use  or  abuse  of  that  trust,  which  will  con- 
vey to  the  universe  the  evidence  of  God's  eternal 
and  impartial  justice.  To  ascertain  whether  religion 
be  advantageous  or  not,  something  more  than  the  fu- 
gitive joys  and  sorrows  of  this  illusive  world  must 
be  considered.  Is  what  we  see  the  whole  of  be- 
ing, or  is  there  an  after  scene  1  If  so,  what  is  its 
duration,  what  its  character?  And  will  that  which 
pre<iedes  give  a  complexion  to  that  which  follows  1 
These  are  questions  which  awaken  a  solemn  inter- 
est, and  questions,  too,  which  must  be  answered  be- 
fore it  is  possible  to  pronounce,  with  even  a  shadow 
of  truth,  upon  the  destiny  of  man. 

True,  the  ultimate  reward  of  virtue  is  at  present 
a  matter  of  faith  and  not  of  sight ;  but  of  faith  rest- 
ing on  high  and  respon^rible  authority.  All  the  phe- 
nomena of  nature,  all  the  economy  of  Providence, 
all  the  forebodings  of  the  heart  of  man,  intimate, 
what  the  Scriptures  declare,  That  after  death  comes 
the  judgment.  The  impious  may  sneer,  the  skep- 
tic may  doubt,  and  guess,  and  conjecture  ;  but  dare 
even  he,  in  the  face  of  all  this  evidence,  affirm  that 
he  knoivs  that  this  is  not  the  case  ]  And  if  he  dare 
not,  then,  even  the  skeptic  being  judge,  the  interests 
of  virtue  may  be  secure,  and  the  rapturous  anticipa- 
tions of  Saul  of  Tarsus  well  founded,  who,  in  the 
near  approach  of  death,  triumphantly  exclaimed,  1 


HIGHER    PLEASITRES    THAN    OF    SENSE.    151 

have  fought  the  good  fight !  And  should  the  rap- 
turous anticipation  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  be  well  found- 
ed, how  will  stand  the  account?  Ah,  hearer!  when 
weighed  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary,  bonds,  and 
stripes,  and  imprisonment  are  only  light  afflictions, 
unworthy  to  be  put  in  competition  with  that  exceed- 
ing and  eternal  weight  of  glory  hereafter  to  be  re- 
vealed. 

But,  eternity  apart,  it  is  not  true  that  religion  has 
no  reward  ;  and  the  arrogant  assumption  that  it  has 
not,  to  whatever  period  of  existence  it  be  limited,  or 
to  whatever  part  of  God's  creation  it  be  applied,  is 
as  false  in  fact  as  it  is  impious  in  theory.  Not  that 
its  heaven-approved  possessor  is  uniformly,  or  even 
usually  signalized  by  what  the  sensual  call  prosperity. 
And  what  though  he  is  not  ?  Is  he  an  animal  mere- 
ly, that  his  health  and  thrift  should  be  estimated  by 
the  limits  or  the  luxuriance  of  the  pasture  in  which 
he  ranges,  or  by  the  quantity  of  fodder  that  is  thrown 
before  him  by  his  keeper  ?  In  testing  his  well-be- 
ing, the  things  that  concern  the  body  are  of  small 
account.     Here,  as  elsewhere, 

"  The  mind's  the  measure  of  the  man." 

Food  and  raiment,  to  an  incarnate  spirit,  are  desira- 
ble ;  but  they  are  not  the  only  things  that  are  so. 
To  such  a  spirit,  the  precious  metals  have  their 
value  ;  but  there  are  other  gifts  within  the  compass 
of  God's  almightiiiess  still  more  valuable  than  the  pre- 
cious metals.  So  David,  having  made  the  experi- 
ment, decided  ;  so  Solomon,  having  made  the  experi- 
ment^ decided.     Not  all  the  honours  royalty  could 


152     RELIGION    HAS    A    PRESENT    REWARD. 

confer,  not  all  the  luxuries  that  affluence  could  pro- 
cure, furnished,  in  their  impartial  estimation,  so  pure 
or  so  perfect  a  pleasure  as  that  which  is  conveyed 
to  the  heart  through  the  consecrated  channel  of  de- 
votion :  nor  is  devotion  the  only  channel  of  delight, 
refined  and  exquisite. 

Virtue,  in  all  its  acts,  carries  with  it  a  reward.  In 
the  exercise  of  conscious  rectitude,  in  the  perform- 
ance of  charitable  offices,  in  feeding  the  poor,  in  min- 
istering id  the  sick,  in  consoling  the  mourner,  and  in 
guiding  inquiring  souls  in  the  way  to  heaven,  there 
is  a  blessedness  so  holy,  so  divine,  that  the  gross 
delights  of  sensuality,  and  the  corrosive  joys  of  ava- 
rice and  ambition,  are  in  comparison  only  disguised 
misery. 

There  is  much  illusion  in  that  apparent  glory  which 
wealth  and  honour  seem  to  throw  around  the  sinner. 
None  but  a  novice  will  estimate  a  man's  happiness 
by  the  extent  of  his  possessions.  Solomon  is  not 
the  only  one  who  has  seen  riches  kept  for  the  owners 
thereof  to  their  hurt.  What  were  crowns  and  king- 
doms worth,  to  be  held  by  such  a  tenure  ?  And 
yet  by  such  a  tenure  many  an  envied  profligate  holds 
whatever  of  wealth  and  honour  he  possesses.  In 
vain  he  strives  to  conceal  his  misery.  He  smiles 
and  smiles,  but  is  still  accursed. 

This  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  God,  in  his  in 
ocrutable  providence,  and    notwithstanding  appear 
ances   to  the  contrary,  distinguishes  the   righteous 
from  the  wicked.     To  the  former,  though  he  give 
sparingly,  he  gives  in  mercy,  and  it  becomes  a  double 
blessing.      To  the  latter  he  gives  bountifully ;  but 


UNSATISFYING    NA1?URE    OF    RICHES.      153 

he  gives  in  wrath,  and  it  proves  a  curse.  Hence 
the  favourites  of  the  world  are  for  ever  repining  at 
their  lot.  And  well  they  may  repine  at  it ;  for  ev- 
ery addition  to  unsanctified  wealth  only  corrodes  the 
heart  with  new  cares,  and  agitates  the  bosom  with 
new  desires.  This  is  no  exaggeration.  I  appeal 
to  fact.  Long  and  often  has  the  experiment  been 
tried.  Among  those  prayerless  sinners  whom  so 
many  account  happy,  wealth  has  been  distributed. 
But  with  what  effect?  Has  ambition  anywhere 
been  satisfied  1  Or  has  avarice  ever  been  heard  to 
say  it  is  enough?  JNTo,  never.  On  the  contrary, 
both,  hungry  as  the  grave,  cry,  Give,  give.  And 
God  does  give.  But  still  the  cry  is  repeated,  and 
will  continue  to  be  repeated  till  death  stifles  it ;  for 
it  is  prompted  by  an  appetite  that  is  never  satiated, 
and  by  a  thirst  that  is  never  quenched. 

Selfishness  may  possess  the  world,  but  benevo- 
lence alone  can  enjoy  it.  Better  is  a  dry  morsel 
ivitli  contentment,  than  a  house  full  of  sacrifices  loiih 
strife.  It  is  not  the  flocks  that  a  man  numbers,  the 
slaves  he  commands,  or  the  domains  which  he  calls 
his  own ;  it  is  not  the  palace  he  inhabits,  the  crown 
on  his  head,  or  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  but  the 
amount  of  blessedness  he  derives  from  them,  that  is 
to  be  taken  into  the  account  in  determining  whether 
mercy  or  vengeance  be  the  predominant  feature  of  his 
lot.  The  devout  eye,  in  only  beholding  the  fields, 
and  groves,  and  gardens  which  display  so  many 
beauties  around  some  licentious  court  or  inhospita- 
ble mansion,  often  derives  more  happiness  from  the 
scene  than  it  ever  conveys  to  its  graceless  and 
harghty  owner. 


154  SIN    DESTROYS    HAPPINESS. 

There  is  an  obscuring  and  deadening  influence  in 
sin.  It  destroys  the  sensibility ;  it  perverts  the  taste ; 
and  it  sheds  over  the  intellectual  and  moral  eye  a 
sombrous  and  sickly  light,  in  which  heaven,  and 
earth,  and  nature,  and  art,  appear  alike  dim  and  glory- 
less.  No  Providence  is  seen ;  no  parent's  love  is 
recognised  ;  no  pulse  of  joy,  no  throb  of  gratitude  is 
felt.  A  dismal  ennui  consumes  the  solitary  hour, 
and  even  the  social  revel  is  but  heartless  afiectation 
and  mimic  mirth.  Oh  God  !  it  is  by  prosperity  that 
thou  dost  inflict  upon  the  wicked  thy  strange  ven- 
geance. Their  bane  is  the  mercies  which  they  re- 
ceive, but  acknowledge  not ;  and,  not  acknowledg- 
ing them,  they  cease  to  be  mercies.  It  was  ordain- 
ed of  old  that  it  should  be  so  ;  and  so  it  is  that 
virtue  enjoys  more  even  of  this  world  in  rags  and 
cottages,  than  does  vice  in  robes  and  courts  ;  and  it 
were  better,  heaven  and  hell  out  of  the  question,  to 
subsist  like  Lazarus  on  crumbs  sweetened  by  sub- 
mission, than  to  revel  at  luxurious  banquets  with 
Dives  and  his  faithless  guests. 

But  neither  to  saints  nor  sinners  is  life  made  up 
of  banquets.  This  world  presents  not  a  uniform, 
but  a  mixed  scene.  Light  and  shade  are  blended. 
And  if  to  all  there  are  some  days  of  sunshine  and  joy, 
so  to  all  there  are  some  of  darkness  and  wo.  These 
latter  must  be  subtracted,  and  the  balance  of  pains 
and  pleasures  struck,  before  we  can  pronounce  with 
safety  on  the  comparative  blessedness  of  the  right- 
eous and  the  wicked.  Though  the  former  were  less 
affluent  and  honoured,  and  more  despised  and  tram- 
pled on  than  they  are,  it  would  not  follow  that  they 


THE    christian's    JOY  IN  TRIBULATION-    155 

are  less  happy  or  less  favoured  of  God  on  that  ac- 
count. Are  their  afflictions  great?  So  also,  and 
more  abundantly,  may  be  their  consolations.  I  am 
aware  that  the  history  of  godliness  is  a  history  filled 
with  objects  of  terror ;  and  that  many  of  its  scenes 
are  drawn  in  characters  of  blood.  I  am  aware 
that  persecution  has  often  prepared  her  racks  and 
kindled  her  fires  ;  that  men  of  the  purest  virtue  and 
of  the  holiest  faith  have  been  seen  to  pine  in  dun-, 
geons  and  to  wander  in  exile.  But  neither  dungeons 
nor  exile  were  to  them  so  great  an  evil  as  their  per- 
secutors had  imagined.  Not  sighs,  but  songs,  were 
heard  from  that  prison  where  Paul  and  Silas  were 
confined.  As  joyous  as  wakeful,  at  midnight,  when 
deliverance  came,  it  found  them  praying  and  singing 
psalms.  Nor  were  Paul  and  Silas  the  only  saints 
that  have  rejoiced  in  tribulation.  Usually,  if  not 
uniformly,  the  confessor's  faith  has  nobly  supported 
him  ;  nor  has  the  martyr's  heart  been  broken  by  the 
stroke  that  felled  his  body.  And  how  should  the 
martyr's  heart  be  broken  by  the  stroke  that  felled  his 
body  1  The  afflictions  of  the  righteous  differ  essen- 
tially in  their  nature  and  in  their  design  from  those 
of  the  wicked,  to  whom  the  arm  of  the  Almighty  is 
a  scourge,  and  who,  when  the  world  forsakes  them, 
have  no  deliverer.  To  the  one  the  cup  of  sorrow 
is  salutary  and  mingled  with  mercy  ;  to  the  other  ii 
is  deleterious  and  overflows  with  wrath. 

The  great  refiner  subjects  both  the  precious  mec 
al  and  the  vile  to  the  action  of  fire,  but  for  very  dif- 
ferent purposes.     It  is  to  purify  the  one,  it  is  to 


156  TRIALS    EXALT    AND    PURIFY. 

consume  the  other ;  and  his  purposes  are  accom* 
plished.     The  one  is  consumed,  the  other  purified. 

Often  have  the  sublimest  virtues,  the  holiest  af- 
fections been  evolved  under  the  influence  of  sorrow. 
How  much  has  this  globe  of  earth  risen  in  impor- 
tance ;  how  much  has  the  race  of  man  been  exalted  ; 
how  much  has  the  universe  gained  of  goodness  and 
glory,  by  the  afflictions  through  which  the  saints 
have  been  called  to  pass  1  Ah  !  had  the  triial  of  vir- 
tue been  dispensed  with,  and  had  there  been  no  such 
thing  in  the  economy  of  Providence  as  tribuiiation  to 
the  righteous,  the  examples  of  Abraham,  and  Moses, 
and  David  would  have  been  lost ;  the  exanjples  of 
the  apostles  and  of  the  martyrs  would  have  been 
lost ;  the  field  of  moral  beauty  narrowed  and  sullied, 
and  the  record  of  the  tenderest  incidents  stricken 
from  the  history  of  the  world.  What  good  man, 
what  friend  of  God  and  of  righteousness  would  have 
been  willing,  had  the  question  been  submitted  to  his 
choice,  to  purchase  temporal  ease  and  affluence  by 
such  a  sacrifice  ?  No  one.  It  is  good  for  the  in- 
habitants of  the  earth  ;  it  is  good  for  the  inhabitants 
of  heaven  ;  it  is  good  for  the  saints  themselves,  that 
they  have  been  afflicted.  And  we  may  consecrate, 
therefore,  and  apply,  without  the  same  incertitude,  the 
words  which  the  exiled  -3Gneas  addressed  to  his  de 
sponding  followers  : 

"  O  passi  graviora  !  dabit  Deus  his  quoque  finem. 

revocate  animos,  moestumque  timorem 

Mittite ;  forsan  et  haec  olim  meminisse  juvabit ." 

But  what  crowns  the  argument,  so  far  as  earth 
and  time  are  concerned,  is  this  :    that  virtue,  ivhich 


CONSOLATION    IN   DEATH.  157 

in  affliction  enjoys  greater  consolation,  in  death  svf^ 
fers  less  misery. 

Whatever  wealth  and  honour  may  be  worth  to  the 
living,  they  are  nothing  to  the  dead,  nothing  even  to 
the  dying  !  That  decisive  change  sunders  all  the 
ties  that  bind  a  mortal  to  the  world.  The  hour  of 
dissolution  is  emphatically  the  hour  of  trial.  Then, 
more  than  at  any  other  period,  the  affrighted,  ago- 
nized victim  feels  dependance — needs  assistance  ; 
and  if  there  be  anything  of  power  to  give  this — any- 
thing of  power  to  abate  the  horrors  and  cheer  the 
darkness  of  the  death-scene,  the  bestowment  of  thaty 
more  than  any  other  token  within  the  gift  of  Provi- 
dence, ascertains  who  they  are  among  the  dwellers 
on  the  earth  whom  the  God  of  Heaven  delights  to 
favour  and  to  honour.  There  is  that  which  has 
power  to  do  this.  The  calm  and  tranquil,  the  rap- 
turous and  triumphant  death  of  thousands  prove  it. 

The  hope  of  eternal  life,  the  sweet  assurance  of 
forgiven  sin,  (he  smile  of  redeeming  mercy,  the 
sight  of  heaven  breaking  on  the  soul  through  the 
twilight  of  that  long,  dismal  night,  of  which  death 
seetns  but  the  commencement — there  is  something 
so  precious,  so  consoling,  so  divine  in  such  an  exit 
from  the  world,  that,  were  it  attainable  only  by  a  life 
of  perpetual  martyrdom,  I  should  still  devoutly  pray 
to  God,  Let  ?ne,  even  on  such  terms,  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his. 
Yes,  even  on  such  terms  I  should  account  the  good 
man  blessed.  Yes,  even  on  such  terms  I  should 
covet  the  confessor's  dungeon,  I  should  covet  the 
martyr's  stake 


158  EXHORl^TION    TO    EARLY    PIETY. 

Ah  !  beloved  pupils,  we  may  here,  and  at  the 
moment  of  separation,  discuss  the  comparative  ad- 
vantages of  vice  and  virtue ;  but  it  is  not  here  that 
we  can  feel  the  full  force  of  that  discussion.  You 
will  not  know  how  much  rehgion  profitelh  till  you 
have  left  this  seat  ('^  ~^cience,  till  you  have  visited 
the  abodes  of  sorrow,  nil  you  have  stood  by  the  pil- 
low of  the  dying.  What  am  I  saying?  You  will 
not  know  this  till  you  have  made  the  grand  decisive 
experiment  yourselves  ;  explored  the  grave  in  person, 
and  from  the  dread  solemnities  of  the  judgnnent-day 
received  instruction.  Were  the  secrets  of  that  great 
day  made  manifest — and  made  manifest  they  shortly 
will  be — there  would  exist  but  one  opinion  on  this 
subject.  Revelation,  even  now,  gives  an  anticipated 
view  of  those  scenes,  both  of  transport  and  of  ter- 
ror, which  the  natural  eye  sees  not.  In  its  light  I 
beseech,  I  adjure  you  ;  and,  ere  you  enter  on  the 
world,  make  up  your  mind,  and  with  God,  and  heav- 
en, and  hell,  and  judgment,  and  eternity  before  youigj^ 
eyes,  decide  for  yourselves,  whether  it  be  not  better 
to  suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  than  to 
enjoy  the  delusive,  degrading,  damning  pleasures  of 
sin  for  a  season ;  and  as  you  decide,  so  act.  Time 
is  short,  eternity  is  at  stake,  and  the  moments  are  on 
the  wing  that  will  decide  your  fate  for  ever. 

Oh,  God !  look  down  with  pitying  eye  on  this 
group  of  beings  now  to  be  dispersed  ;  and,  where- 
soever they  may  wander,  so  guide  their  inexperi- 
enced steps  that  they  may  meet  in  heaven.  Do 
this  for  the  Redeemer's  sake,  and  to  thy  great  name 
shall  be  the  glory. 


THE   FLOW    OF   TIME.  159 


X. 

DELIVERED     ON     SUNDAY    EVENING     BEFORE     COMMENCE- 
MENT, 1814. 

rinstability  of  all  earthly  Things. — Motives  to  early  Piety. — 
Filial  Love  and  Gratitude.— Parental  Affection. — Anxiety  of 
Parents  to  promote  the  Happiness  of  their  Children.— Chris- 
tian Parents. — Instructions  of  Solomon. — Early  Piety  inter- 
esting in  itself. — Leads  to  Happiness. — Joy  of  Christian  Pa- 
rents in  pious  Children,  in  Life  and  in  Death.— Example  of  a 
pious  Child. — The  Good  on  Earth  and  the  Angels  in  Heaven 
rejoice  over  Souls  converted  from  Sin  to  Righteousness. — 
Union  of  Parents  and  Children  in  Heaven.] 

There  is  something  awfully  impressive  in  the 
rapid  and  perpetual  flow  of  time.  To  eternity  this 
stream  is  ever  tending,  like  a  river  to  the  ocean. 
Individuals,  families,  nations  float  upon  its  surface, 
and  are  borne  away  and  lost  in  that  absorbing  gulf, 
whose  dimensions  no  eye  can  measure,  and  on 
whose  misty  surface  no  wreck  is  seen. 

Nothing  here  is  stable,  nothing  permanent.  The 
noblest  specimens  of  genius,  the  proudest  monu- 
ments of  art  fade,  decay,  and  disappear. 

Even  society  itself  continues  only  by  succession. 
The  species  is  preserved,  but  the  individual  perishes. 
The  relations  of  parent  and  child,  of  brother  and 
sister,  of  neighbour  and  friend,  are  indeed  perpetual. 
Not  so  the  persons  who  sustain  those  relations. 
They  were,  but  they  are  seen  no  more  !  Transient 
as  the  cloud  on  which  the  sunbeam  of  the  morning 
played  has  been  the  glory  of  the  preceding  age,  nor 


160  SUCCESSIVE    GENERATIONS. 

will  that  of  the  present  or  of  the  following  be  more 
abiding.  All  the  virtue  and  talents,  all  the  goodness 
and  greatness  that  now  exalt  and  adorn  society,  will 
soon  vanish  from  the  sight,  nor  leave  a  trace  behind. 

To  a  reflecting  mind  there  is  something  deeply 
afl^ecting  in  this  idea.  Life  is  naturally  dear  to  us  ; 
we  cling  instinctively  to  the  passing  scene  ;  but  we 
cannot  even  check,  much  less  arrest  its  flight  and 
ensure  its  perpetuity.  For  us  a  shroud  is  weaving, 
for  us  the  bed  of  death  is  spread.  The  grave  waits 
to  receive  our  ashes,  and  the  church  bell  will  soon 
have  tolled  our  funeral  knell.  As  individuals,  we 
must  die,  nor  can  we  continue  to  live  upon  the  earth 
except  in  our  successors.  That,  indeed,  is  only  an 
ideal  life  ;   but  still  the  thought  of  it  is  precious. 

Were  the  race  of  men  to  become  extinct  when 
we  ourselves  expire,  the  darkness  of  death  would 
appear  still  more  dark  ;  more  desolate  the  desolation 
of  the  tomb.  Standing  on  the  verge  of  that  abyss 
which  has  swallowed  up  our  ancestors,  and  in  which 
we  ourselves  are  about  to  be  ingulfed,  how  gratetlil 
is  the  idea  that  to  us  also  there  will  be  successors ; 
and  that  whatever  of  learning,  of  virtue,  and  of  piety 
the  living  world  possesses,  will  survive  us,  and  be 
perpetuated  by  those  who  will  constitute  posterity. 

We  ourselves  must  quit  this  theatre  of  action  and 
of  interest.  We  must  resign  our  places  of  respon- 
sibility and  of  usefulness.  The  time  will  soon  have 
arrived  when,  for  our  friends,  for  our  country,  for  the 
church,  for  the  world,  we  can  do  nothing  more. 
Both  the  opportunity  and  the  ability  of  effecting 
good  and  ol'  efl^ecting  evil  will  be  transferred  to  other 


SYMPATHIES  OF  PARENTS  AND  CHILDREN.    161 

hands.  How  solicitous  should  we  be,  then,  to  im- 
prove the  virtues,  to  correct  the  vices,  and  to  fix  the 
habits  of  those  to  w^hom,  under  God,  are  to  be  in- 
t.  usted  the  future  destinies  of  mankind  1 

The  motives  to  early  piety  are  too  numerous  to 
be  presented  in  an  address  like  this.  In  the  most 
elaborate  discussion  a  selection  would  be  necessary  ; 
and  even  then,  on  the  topics  selected  much  would 
remain  unsaid.  Among  these  motives  is  filial  grat- 
itude, on  which  I  am  about  to  insist  this  evening. 

The  sympathies  subsisting  between  parents  and 
children  are  reciprocal,  and  in  nothing  are  the  wis- 
dom and  goodness  of  God  more  manifest  than  in 
the  bestowment  of  those  sympathies,  which,  like  so 
many  ligaments,  bind  in  perpetual  amity  those  groups 
of  beings,  who,  dwelling  beneath  the  same  roof,  con- 
stitute the  family. 

The  parent  naturally  commiserates  his  infant 
child  ;  the  child  early  feels  a  glow  of  affection  to- 
wards his  provident  and  attentive  parent ;  these  mu- 
tual sympathies  are  strengthened  by  indulgence  ;  and 
from  their  habitual  exercise  springs  no  inconsider- 
able part  of  the  bliss  of  life.  Cold  and  comfortless 
indeed  would  human  intercourse  become,  if  paternal, 
filial,  and  fraternal  affeotion  were  suspended.  Not 
all  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  courts,  not  all  the 
formal  and  studied  courtesies  of  fashion,  could  com- 
pensate for  the  loss  of  that  heaven-appointed  solace, 
domestic  friendship.  Beneath  the  paternal  roof  dis- 
guise is  banished,  and  heart  meets  heart  in  amity : 
liere  nature  operates,  and  there,  and  only  there,  man 
-^eaks  and  acts  without  dissimulation. 
N 


162  DESIGN    OF    THESE    SYMPATHIES. 

Partial,  however,  would  be  our  view  of  Provi- 
dence, did  we  consider  these  sympathies  as  if  im- 
planted merely  to  solace  human  misery  and  sweeten 
human  intercourse.  True,  indeed,  they  do  serve  to 
tranquillize  our  passions,  to  soften  our  asperity,  and 
to  compensate  at  home  for  that  tasteless,  shallow 
courtesy  practised  on  us  abroad  with  unmeaning  as- 
siduity by  those  trained  to  the  deceptive  arts  of  a 
faithless,  fashionable  world. 

But  they  have  still  a  higher  office.  Time  is  the 
commencement  of  eternity.  To  the  due  'perform- 
ance  of  these  duties^  filial  and  parental  sympathies 
are  alike  conducive.  The  one  sweetens  all  the 
cares  and  softens  all  the  sorrows  incident  to  the 
nurturing  of  children.  More  than  this  :  it  secures, 
or,  at  least,  tends  to  secure  the  exercise  of  those 
cares  and  the  patient  endurance  of  those  sorrows. 
That  man  should  not  desert  his  infant  offspring  like 
the  ostrich,  that  lays  and  forsakes  her  eggs  upon 
the  sand,  his  Creator  has  bound  him  to  that  offspring 
by  ties  which  he  cannot  sunder  without  doing  vio- 
lence to  his  nature  and  ceasing  to  be  man.  The 
other  sweetens  submission,  and  renders  even  a  state 
of  tutelage  not  only  supportable,  but  pleasant* 
More  than  this  :  love  to  parents  often  prompts  to 
the  endurance  of  restraints,  to  the  practice  of  vir- 
tues, and  to  the  formation  of  correct  habits  at  a  pe- 
riod when,  to  a  thoughtless  youth,  no  other  motive 
would  be  availing.  To  this  cause  may  be  attributed 
much  of  that  decency  and  decorum  of  manners 
which  are  usually  observable  in  well-regulated  fam- 
ilies even  among  children  naturally  the  most  friv 
olous  and  wayward. 


FILIAL    LOVE    AND    LOVE    OF    GOD.  163 

But  the  Christian  moralist  is  not  satisfied  with 
mere  decency  and  decorum.  It  behooves  him, 
therefore,  to  co-operate  with  the  Deity  in  his  benev- 
olent intentions ;  and,  seizing  on  juvenile  tender- 
ness and  filial  affection,  to  endeavour  to  direct  their 
influence  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  high  purposes 
of  revealed  religion.  When,  amid  the  levity  and 
thoughtlessness  of  youth,  other  motives  prove  una- 
vailing, it  becomes  him  to  touch  that  string  which 
for  ever  vibrates,  and  to  constrain,  if  it  be  possible  to 
constrain,  to  the  love  of  God  by  the  love  of  parents. 
And  why  may  it  not  be  possible  1  Why  may  not 
affection,  as  well  as  any  other  natural  endowment, 
be  sanctified ;  and  thus  the  whole  heart,  through 
this  as  a  medium  of  operation,  by  the  efficiency  of 
the  spirit,  be  regenerated  unto  righteousness  ? 

Nothing  on  earth  is  dearer  to  a  parent  than  the 
happiness  of  his  children ;  nor  is  anything  more 
grateful  to  a  dutiful  child  than  to  contribute  to  a 
parent's  joy.  And  to  a  Christian  parent,  what  joy 
can  be  compared  to  that  which  springs  from  seeing 
his  children  progressive  in  the  path  of  righteousness, 
and  adorning,  by  deeds  of  early  faith  and  charity, 
the  doctrines  of  God  their  Saviour  1 

To  have  been  born  and  educated  in  a  Christian 
land  is  the  honour  and  privilege  of  the  youth  I  now 
address.  Some  of  you,  I  trust,  have  the  still  high- 
er honour  of  being  descended  from  parents  who  are 
Christians  indeed  :  parents  who  bore  you  in  their 
irms  to  the  altar  of  your  God  in  infancy,  imploring 
en  you  his  paternal  benediction ;  and  who,  during 
your  riper  years,  have  never  ceased  to  intercede  in 


164      INSTRUCTIONS  OF  SOLOMON. 

your  behalf,  when  presenting  their  evening  and  morn- 
ing supplication  before  the  mercy  seat:  parents 
whose  waking  hours  have  been  occupied  with  your 
wants,  and  in  whose  very  dreams  has  mingled  con- 
cern for  your  salvation. 

Long  as  you  may  have  been  ungrateful  to  God, 
to  your  parents  you  have  never  ceased  to  be  grateful. 
Though  cold  and  callous  to  the  love  of  Jesus,  your 
hearts  are  yet  susceptible  of  filial  love.  Though 
grace  has  never  quickened  you,  nature  has  not  yet 
become  extinct.  Dear  is  the  name  of  parent,  dear 
a  father's  counsel,  dear  a  mother's  care.  In  their 
welfare  you  feel  an  interest.  You  wish  them  bless- 
ed :  wish  that  the  evening  of  their  days  may  be  se- 
rene and  cloudless,  and  that  their  gray  hairs  may 
ultimately  descend,  not  with  sorrow,  but  with  joy  to 
the  grave.  And  do  you  really  and  from  your  hearts 
desire  this?  Does  the  idea  of  a  provident  father, 
of  a  vigilant  and  tender  mother,  excite  aught  of  in- 
terest in  your  bosoms  1  Then,  by  the  kindness  they 
have  manifested,  by  the  anxieties  they  have  felt  and 
still  feel,  I  adjure  you  to  do  homage  to  the  Saviour 
whom  they  honour,  and  consecrate  the  first  years  of 
your  being  to  the  God  whom  they  serve. 

Solomon,  that  sagacious  king  of  Israel,  urges  this 
motive  with  force  and  frequency.  The  relation 
which  subsists  between  a  parent  and  a  child  is  in- 
troduced repeatedly,  to  give  effect  to  those  lessons 
of  instruction  imbodied  in  his  proverbs.  When  the 
rising  generation  are  addressed,  the  majesty  of  the 
king  is  merged  in  the  tenderness  of  the  parent. 
Then,  not  the  monarch,  but  the  father  speaks .:  and 
how  tender  and  affecting  are  his  words. 


EARLY  PIETY  INTERESTING  IN  ITSELF.   165 

J\Iy  son,  hear  the  instruction  of  a  father,  andfor^ 
sahe  not  the  law  of  thy  mother.  JMy  son,  if  sinners 
entice  thee,  cotisent  thou  not.  Hear,  ye  children,  the 
instruction  of  a  father  ;  for  I  give  you  good  coun- 
sel, forsake  not  my  laiu.  He  urges  the  interest . 
which  parents  take  in  the  well-being  of  their  chil- 
dren, and  describes  in  expressive  terms  the  joy 
which  their  virtues  excite,  and  the  anguish  which 
their  vices  occasion.  Jl  wise  son,  he  says,  maketh 
a  glad  father;  but  a  foolish  son  is  the  heaviness 
of  his  mother.  The  same  idea  is  elsewhere  ex- 
pressed, and  in  terms  equally  significant  and  appro- 
priate. Children's  children  are  the  crown  of  old 
men,  and  the  glory  of  children  are  their  fathers ;  but 
a  foolish  son  is  grief  unto  his  father,  and  bitterness 
to  her  that  bare  him. 

In  whatever  situation  we  contemplate  the  parent 
and  the  child,  the  truth  of  the  positions  assumed  by 
Solomon  will  be  apparent.  In  life  and  in  death, 
with  equal  justice  may  it  be  said  that  a  wise  son 

MAKETH   A  GLAD  FATHER. 

In  LIFE. — Early  piety  is  in  itself  an  ob- 
ject OF  interest.  What  a  delightful  spectacle  is 
a  family  of  docile  and  dutiful  children  living  in  ami- 
ty ;  increasing  in  knowledge  and  in  virtue  as  they 
increase  in  stature,  and  destined,  after  having  adorned 
the  earth,  to  be  transplanted  to  the  heavens.  Be- 
hold how  good  and  how  pleasant  a  thing  it  is  for 
brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity ;  it  is  as  the  dew 
of  Herman,  and  as  the  dew  that  descendeth  upon  the 
mountains  of  Zion. 

Early  i'iety  is  in  its  effects  conducive  to 


166  EARLY  PIETY  CONDUCIVE  TO  HAPPINESS. 

HAPPINESS.  The  work  of  righteousness  shall  be 
l^eace^  and  the  effect  of  righteousness,  quietness  and 
assurance  for  ever,  saith  Isaiah  ;  a  prediction  veri- 
fied by  the  experience  of  every  Christian  family  in 
which  charity  is  the  bond  of  union ;  in  which  re- 
ciprocal affection  reigns,  and  filial  and  fraternal  du- 
ties are  alike  the  business  and  the  delight  of  fife. 
How  worthy  of  emulation  is  the  condition  of  such  a 
family !  How  pre-eminently  blessed  that  parent 
whom  God  has  placed  at  the  head  of  it !  All  his 
joys  are  heightened,  all  his  pains  mitigated,  and  the 
most  wearisome  hours  of  his  life  are  beguiled  by  the 
affection,  the  constancy,  the  cheerfulness,  and  the 
piety  of  those  around  him.  Time  thus  occupied 
passes  pleasantly  away,  and  even  eternity  itself  ap- 
pears more  rapturous  in  the  contemplation,  being 
heightened  by  the  prospect  not  only  of  his  own  sal- 
vation, but  that  of  his  household. 

To  the  parent  thus  highly  favoured  of  the  Lord, 
this  is  the  consummation  of  sublunary  joy.  It  is  a 
joy  already  tinctured  with  the  spirit  of  the  heavens, 
and  partaking  of  the  tranquillity  of  the  life  to  come. 
Even  desire  itself  has  ceased,  because  it  is  satisfied. 
It  was  not  that  his  children  might  shine  in  honour  or 
riot  in  wealth  that  he  nurtured  them  with  so  mu-ch 
care,  and  supplicated  for  them  with  so  much  earnest- 
ness. Their  salvation,  more  than  any  other  con- 
cern, occupied  his  mind  and  pressed  on  his  heart. 
Their  salvation  God  has  granted  ;  of  which  their 
faith,  and  patience,  and  their  labours  of  love  are  at 
once  an  evidence  and  a  pledge.  And  this  having 
been  granted,  desire  ceases,  and  the  cup  of  domestic 


JOY  OF  PARENTS  IN  PIOUS  CHILDREN.     167 

bliss  is  full.  Desire  ceases  because  its  chief  object 
is  obtained ;  and  because,  moreover,  the  Christian 
parent  knows,  that  to  them  who  have  sought  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  all  ne- 
cessary good  will  be  added  thereunto.  He  knows 
that,  whether  his  offspring,  on  whom  such  early 
grace  has  been  bestowed,  are  destined  to  live  in  the 
obscurity  of  cottages  or  m  the  splendour  of  courts ; 
whether  they  are  appointed  to  turn  the  furrows  of 
the  field  or  to  labour  in  the  details  of  the  work- 
shop ;  whether  they  shall  be  called  to  preside  in  the 
counsels  of  the  senate  chamber,  to  fight  the  battles  of 
their  country  in  the  field,  or  to  defend,  at  the  stake  or 
on  the  scaffold,  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints, 
everywhere  the  God  whom  they  have  chosen  and 
whom  they  serve  will  be  with  them,  and  qualify  them 
for  the  duties,  whether  of  action  or  of  suffering, 
which,  in  their  passage  to  glory,  they  shall  be  required 
to  perform. 

In  death,  a  wise  son  maketh  a  glad  father :  a 
truth  equally  obvious,  whether  we  consider  the  death 
of  the  parent  or  of  the  child. 

Or  THE  PARENT. — If  there  be  an  idea  which, 
more  than  any  other,  aggravates  to  a  parent  the  dread 
of  death,  it  is  that  of  separation  from  his  children. 
And  yet  even  this  idea,  so  full  of  anguish  to  the  dy- 
ing Christian,  is  also  full  of  consolation.  For,  even 
in  death,  the  pious  children  which  he  leaves  behind 
him  are  his  hope,  his  joy,  and  the  crown  of  his  re- 
joicing. Many  a  rapturous  thought  mingles  in  that 
melancholy  train  w-hich  at  this  momentous  crisis 
occupies  his  mind. 


168    PARTING  BLESSING  OF  PIOUS  PARENTS. 

Do  the  anticipated  ills  of  orphanage  present  them- 
selves to  his  view?  He  remembers  who  it  was 
that  said,  Leave  your  fatherless  children  loith  me, 
/  tvill  provide  for  them,  and  let  your  widows  trust  in 
God.  He  feels  that  they  cannot  be  accounted  fa- 
therless to  whom  God  has  become  a  father;  nor 
destitute  to  whom  an  inheritance  is  bequeathed  in 
heaven.  The  promises  of  the  covenant  occur  to 
him,  and  he  reposes  his  confidence  upon  the  faithful- 
ness of  God.  Vain,  profligate  young  man,  dost  thou 
require  a  proof  of  the  truth  which  is  here  asserted  1 
Leave  then  thy  banquet,  and  visit  yonder  habitation 
of  expiring  virtue,  and  thou  shalt  see  with  what  tran- 
quiUity  the  parent  of  a  pious  offspring  can  leave  the 
world.  Dost  thou  sneer  at  the  idea  ?  Beware : 
that  sneer  may  be  the  sneer  of  death  unto  thy  soul. 
But  what  proof  of  the  truth  which  has  been  incul- 
cated can  yonder  habitation  of  expiring  virtue  afford? 
Oh  that  I  could  faithfully  exhibit  to  thy  view  the 
venerable  father,  like  the  dying  patriarch,  assem- 
bling his  household  to  receive  his  benediction  :  a 
benediction  which  contains  the  only  patrimony  he  is 
able  to  bestow.  Enviable  patrimony :  the  blessing  ol 
a  dying  and  of  a  pious  parent !  More  to  be  desired 
than  all  the  gold  that  misers  ever  counted,  than  all  the 
'  crowns  that  tyrants  have  bestowed.  Oh  that  I  could 
imitate  the  strain  of  heavenly  eloquence  in  which  he 
addresses  the  weeping  auditors  who  stay  his  pillow 
and  hang  upon  his  lips.  "  Persevere,  my  children," 
he  says,  "  persevere  in  the  course  on  which  you 
have  entered ;  be  faithful  to  the  Saviour  you  have 
chosen,  and  continue  to  reverence  the  God  cf  youi 


J)EATH    OF    CHILDREN.  169 

youth,  and  I  assure  you,  by  the  peace  I  now  feel, 
by  the  joys  I  now  anticipate,  that,  when  you  are  old 
and  gray-headed.  He  will  not  forsake  you."  Then, 
raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  adds,  "  There  I  ap- 
point to  meet  you ;  that,  approaching  the  throne  of 
mercy,  and  presenting  you,  my  children,  to  my  Sav- 
iour, I  may  say,  Lord,  here  am  /,  and  those  which 
thou  hast  given  me."  Here  his  voice  falters;  he 
smiles  adieu,  and  the  serenity  of  heaven  beams  from 
his  countenance,  as  he  closes  his  eyes  upon  this 
world,  and  in  faith  resigns  up  his  spirit.  Oh  death, 
where  here  ivas  thy  sting!  Oh  grave,  where  thy 
victory  ! 

Of  the  child. — It  is  not  according  to  seniority 
that  the  king  of  terrors  selects  his  victims.  Often 
does  the  disconsolate  mother  weave  her  daughter's 
shroud,  and  often  the  bereaved  father  plants  the  cy- 
press beside  the  tombstone  of  his  sons.  Even 
these  sad  services  the  parents  of  a  pious  offspring 
perform  not  without  consolation,  because  they  are 
performed  not  without  hope. 

Parental  love  seeks  not  its  own,  but  the  felicity  of 
its  object.  Whatever  loss  it  may  be  to  the  parent, 
to  the  pious  child  it  is  gain  to  die ;  and  the  more  so 
the  earlier  he  is  called  to  do  this.  He  who  tempers^ 
the  breeze  to  the  shorn  lamb,  often  takes  away  the 
children  of  his  grace  from  the  evil  to  come.  At 
death  the  race  ceases,  the  combat  ceases,  and  joy 
is  consummated.  Disease  no  longer  preys  upon 
their  bodies  ;  no  longer  temptation  assails  their  vir- 
tue. Hitherto  they  have  been  sinners  on  the  earth ; 
henceforth  tliey  will  be  saints  in  heaven.  Before 
O 


170  DEATH    OF    CHILDREN, 

they  were  associated  with  men ;  now  they  have  be 
come  companions  of  angels. 

To  have  borne  and  nurtured  children  for  the 
skies  ;  to  have  seen  them,  even  during  their  state 
of  tutelage,  accounted  worthy  to  be  transplanted 
there — what  consoling,  what  triumphant  reflections 
are  these  to  a  bereaved  parent !  True,  he  no  long- 
er enjoys  the  solace  of  their  company.  Their  seat  is 
vacant  at  his  table ;  it  is  vacant  at  the  fireside  ;  it 
is  vacant  at  the  altar.  A  thousand  afflicting  inci- 
dents remind  him  that  they  are  gone.  But,  as  often 
as  this  saddening  thought  recurs,  it  is  softened  and 
transformed  by  the  cheering  recollection  that  they 
are  gone  to  glory.  And,  because  they  are  gone  to 
glory,  the  pang  of  separation  is  forgotten,  and  the  full 
heart,  almost  disburdened  of  its  sorrow,  responds  to 
the  song  of  holy  resignation  : 

"  Why  should  we  mourn  departed  friends, 
Or  start  at  death's  alarms? 
'Tis  but  the  voice  that  Jesus  sends 
To  call  us  to  his  arms." 

Delightful  idea  I  Supported  by  this,  1  have  seen 
the  parents  of  a  much-endeared  child  sitting  with 
composure  beside  his  bed  of  death.  They  were 
j)arents  familiarized  with  sorrow.  Once  they  had 
been  blessed  with  an  ample  fortune  and  a  numerous 
offspring.  But  the  hand  of  God  had  been  upon 
them.  Stripped  of  the  one,  bereaved  of  the  other, 
they  were  left  in  the  decline  of  life  naked  and  de- 
fenceless, like  the  trunk  of  an  aged  oak,  whose 
leaves  and  branches  have  been  swept  away  by  the 
pitiless  storms  that  have  beat  upon  it.     One  little  son. 


DEATH    OF    CHILDREN.  171 

the  child  of  their  old  age,  alone  remained  to  them. 
His  brethren  and  sisters  were  dead,  and  in  his  life 
the  life  of  his  parents  was  bound  up.  Hitherto  they 
had  considered  this  son  as  a  special  gift  of  Provi- 
dence, granted  to  solace  their  sorrows  in  age,  to 
minister  to  their  wants  in  death,  and  afterward  to 
preserve  their  name  and  become  their  memorial 
among  the  hving.  He  was,  indeed,  a  lovely  child ; 
and  what  rendered  him  the  more  so  in  the  eyes  of 
his  godly  parents  was,  that  he  also  feared  God. 
Often,  as  he  hung  upon  his  mother's  arm,  or  clam- 
bering his  father's  knee  and  stroking  back  his  gray 
hairs,  he  would  inquire  of  them  so  earnestly  about 
death,  and  talk  to  them  so  sweetly  about  heaven  and 
Jesus,  that  their  hearts  were  overcome,  and  their 
lips  had  not  the  power  of  utterance. 

Thus  did  this  child  increase  in  wisdom  as  he  in- 
creased in  stature  :  tilVon  a  day,  like  the  child  of 
the  Shunamite,  he  cried  out,  J\Iy  head,  ymj  head! 
Like  that  child,  too,  he  was  carried  from  the  field 
unto  his  mother.  But,  alas !  no  prophet  of  Israel 
was  nigh.  No  swift  Gehazi  ran  from  Carmel  to 
lay  the  staff  of  the  holy  seer  upon  the  face  of  the 
child.  It  was,  indeed,  a  sickness  unto  death.  His 
soul,  however,  was  resigned ;  his  faith  in  the  prom- 
ises immovable.  "  Do  not  grieve  thus,"  said  he  to 
his  aged  parents,  as  they  watched  the  changes  of  his 
countenance,  and  in  pensive  silence  bedewed  his  pil- 
low with  their  tears  ;  "  God  will  take  care  of  you,  and 
he  will  take  care  of  me  too.  My  body  will  be  laid 
in  the  grave,  where  the  body  of  my  Saviour  was  laid. 
My  soul  will  fly  up  to  hea^  en.  where  I  shall  see  my 


172  FILIAL    GRATITUDE    OF    RUTH. 

brothers  and  sisters,  and  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  an- 
gels who  attend  him.  Have  you  not  often  told  me 
that  he  is  the  friend  of  children  1  I  have  read,  too, 
how  he  took  them  in  his  arms  on  earth,  and  I  am 
sure  he  will  bid  them  welcome  to  his  arms  in  heav- 
en." Thus  early  ripe  for  glory,  this  dear  child, 
without  a  murmur  and  without  a  groan,  drew  his  last 
breath,  and  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  I  saw,  indeed, 
that  his  parents  wept ;  but  their  tears  were  tears  of 
joy.  Happy,  thrice  happy  parents,  called  to  com- 
mit such  precious  dust  unto  the  sepulchre,  and  to  re- 
sign a  spirit  thus  ripe  for  glory,  unto  God  who  gave  it. 

What  a  powerful  motive  to  youthful  piety  does 
this  address  unfold  ?  Oh  that  I  v/ere  able  duly  to 
enforce  it !  Oh  that  I  were  able  to  revive  in  your 
minds  the  recollection  of  those  numerous  incidents 
by  which  parental  kindness  has  been  evinced,  that 
unwearied  care  that  guarde^i  your  wayward  steps, 
that  sleepless  vigilance  that  watched  the  slumber  of 
your  cradle  ! 

Do  you  not  feel  the  obligation  you  are  under  to 
your  parents  1  Do  you  not  wish  to  make  requital  1 
Then  break  off  your  sins  by  repentance,  and  by 
faith  make  your  peace  with  God.  You  remember 
how  the  filial  gratitude  of  Ruth  the  Moabitess  evin- 
ced itself  towards  the  widowed  Naomi.  "  The 
Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death 
part  thee  and  me.  For  whither  thou  goest  I  will 
go,  and  where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge  :  thy  people," 
mark  these  emphatic  words,  "thy  people  shall  be 
my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God.  Where  thou 
diest  I  will  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried."     Lovely 


EXHORTATION    TO    EARLY   PIETY.  173 

Moabitess,  thy  vow  is  accepted,  and  thy  faith  shall 
save  thee  :  thy  posterity  shall  be  numbered  among 
the  lineage  of  Jacob  for  the  choice  which  thou  didst 
make,  and  the  spirit  thou  didst  show  evinces  that 
thou  wert  worthy  to  become  for  ever  the  daughter 
of  a  mother  in  Israel. 

Ah  !  would  the  youth  who  hear  me — youth  born 
and  nurtured,  not  in  Moab,  but  in  Zion — make  the 
same  wise  choice,  what  joy  would  it  light  up  in  many 
a  heart  in  this  assembly?  How  would  that  aged 
father  exult  to  hear  his  sons  openly  declare  for  Jesus  ; 
and  what  raptures  would  thrill  the  bosom  of  that 
widowed  mother,  as  her  eye  caught  the  first  symp- 
toms of  contrition  in  that  little  group  of  beings  that 
surround  her,  covered  with  those  weeds  which  are 
at  once  a  symbol  of  orphanage  and  a  memorial  of 
the  dead.  Yes,  children,  piety  in  you  is  lustre  to  a 
father's  eye  ;  it  is  balm  to  a  mother's  heart ;  it  sooths 
the  inquietudes  of  age  ;  it  mitigateslhe  pains  of  sick- 
ness ;  it  softens  the  gloom  of  adversity,  and  extracts 
more  than  half  the  anguish  of  the  pang  of  death. 

It  was  for  this  high  purpose,  that  you  should  join 
yourselves  unto  the  Lord,  that  they  educated  you 
with  so  much  care,  that  they  nurtured  you  with  so 
much  kindness.  To  Jesus  Christ  they  have  given 
you,  his  they  have  ever  considered  you  ;  it  was  in  his 
behalf  that,  with  so  many  prayers  and  tears,  they 
have  fulfilled  the  duties  of  the  parental  office.  Nor 
will  they  ever  be  relieved  from  the  dread  of  failure, 
that  burden  which  still  oppresses  them,  till  you  ratify 
their  vow,  and  by  an  act  of  faith  give  yourselves  to 
Jesus.     NothiniS  short  of  this — no   other  act  can 


174  EXHORTATION    TO    EARLY    PIETY. 

free  your  souls  from  the  guilt  of  abusing  parental 
kindness,  because  no  other  act  makes  requital  for 
that  kindness,  and  cancels  the  debt  of  gratitude 
which  it  imposes.  And  this  does  cancel  it :  in  the 
eye  of  Gud,  and  in  the  eye  of  those  who  nursed 
and  nurtured  you,  it  cancels  it.  All  this,  and  stiil 
more  would  they  have  done,  and  done  cheerfully,  fur 
the  sake  of  swelhng  Emanuel's  retinue,  and  adding 
to  the  number  of  those  who  shall  wear  in  heaven  his 
livery. 

"  Oh  that  I  were  able,"  methinks  I  hear  some  sor- 
row-wounded heart  exclaim,  "  oh  that  I  were  able 
to  call  back  from  sepulchral  ashes  the  spirits  of  my 
parents.  Could  I  do  this,  I  would  pour  my  tears  into 
their  bosoms  if  thus  I  might  wash  away  the  re- 
membrance of  those  crimes  of  mine  which  disturbed 
their  lives,  and  imbittered  even  their  bed  of  death." 
Returning  penitent,  it  is  not  at  the  sepulchre,  but  at 
the  altar,  that  thou  shalt  do  this.  That  marble  tomb 
contains  not  the  sainted  spirits  of  those  pious  pa- 
rents whom  thy  sins  have  grieved.  They  are  either 
praising  God  in  heaven,  or  sent  from  thence  to  ex- 
ecute some  office  of  good- will  to  man.  Perhaps 
they  are  even  now  thy  guardian  angels,  commission- 
ed to  watch  thy  orphan  steps  by  day,  and  to  guard 
by  night  thy  orphan  slumbers.  Be  they  where  they 
may,  thy  return  to  God  will  not  long  remain  unknown 
to  them ;  nor  will  it  less  occasion  joy  because  they 
have  gone  before  thee  into  glory.  There,  in  ecstasy 
they  will  receive  the  welcome  tidings,  or  perhaps 
themselves  will  be  the  bearers  of  those  tidmgs, 
shouting  as   they  ascend,  "  Grace  hath  reclaimed 


EXHORTATION    TO    EARLY    PIETY.  175 

another  wanderer,  and  brought  home  to  Jesus  a 
child  of  ours  !''  Every  redeemed  spirit  sympathizes 
in  their  joy,  and  every  angel  strikes  on  his  golden 
harp  with  a  bolder  hand  the  deep-toned  hallelujah, 
because  an  immortal  soul  loas  dead  and  is  alive  again, 
was  lost  and  is  found. 

And  well  may  the  angels  do  this.  The  recovery 
of  a  soul  from  sin  to  righteousness  is  a  splendid 
event.  What  a  range  of  progressive  glory  opens 
before  the  young  immortal ;  and  what  a  train  of  rap- 
turous ideas  must  spring  up  in  celestial  minds,  as 
they  see  the  heaven-bound  pilgrim  taking  the  incep- 
tive step  in  that  upward  way  that  will  conduct  him 
thither  !  They  know  the  issue  ;  and,  because  they 
know  it,  dwell  with  ecstasy  upon  the  growing  num- 
ber which  the  church  on  earth  is  nurturing  up  to  fill 
their  own  thinned  ranks  and  repeople  their  native 
mansions  :  mansions  which,  ere  our  race  was  made, 
sin  had  invaded,  and  apostacy  from  God  depopulated. 

But  not  the  angels  only — all  other  virtuous  beings, 
the  wise  and  the  good  of  all  nations,  sympathize  with 
your  parents  in  their  joy.  Everywhere  young  con- 
verts awaken  peculiar  interest,  because  they  add  pe- 
culiar beauty  to  the  church,  which  is  God's  moral 
husbandry.  In  this  arid  world,  every  spot  of  moral 
verdure  attracts  the  eye.  Especially  does  the  ver- 
dure of  the  springtime  of  life  attract  it.  We  love 
to  contemplate  these  young  ivilloios  by  the  water-- 
courses;  pleasant  trees,  the  planting  of  the  Lord, 
The  sun  of  righteousness  shines  benignly  on  them 
with  his  beams  ;  the  showers  of  grace  water  their 
tender  branches,  which  already  bud  and  blossom  for 


176  EXHORTATION    TO    EARLY   PIETY. 

the  skies.  Olf !  how  unHke  those  aged  and  barren 
trunks,  which  only  encumber  and  deform  the  vine- 
yard ;  and  which,  because  they  encumber  and  de- 
form it,  are  doomed  to  destruction  ;  and  the  axe 
and  the  fire  become  their  portion. 

Thus  the  angels  of  God,  the  saints  in  glory,  and 
the  church  on  earth,  partake  in  that  pulse  of  joy  which 
dilates  the  parent's  heart  when  his  offspring  incline 
to  wisdom.  Nor  least,  nor  last,  beloved  pupils, 
does  your  Alma  J\Iater  partake  in  this.  Ye  also 
are  her  joy  and  the  crown  of  her  rejoicing.  It  is 
not  the  ignorant,  the  idle,  or  the  profligate  that  she 
numbers  among  her  blessings.  These  are  names 
that  pollute  her  records,  and  are  spots  in  her  feasts 
of  love.  She  wishes  to  be  known  only  as  the  guar- 
dian of  youthful  wisdom,  the  patroness  of  talents 
consecrated  to  God.  In  all  your  future  plans  of 
usefulness  she  will  take  an  interest.  She  will  de- 
light to  see  this  dim  scene  of  earthly  glory  brighten 
as  you  enter  on  it.  To  see  vice  everywhere,  awe- 
smitten  by  the  dignity  of  your  demeanour,  hide  its 
deformed  head  ;  and  oppressed  virtue,  beneath  your 
auspices,  look  up  and  triumph  :  to  see  the  whole 
force  of  your  example  given  unto  righteousness,  and 
the  whole  vigour  of  your  minds  directed  to  the  rear 
ing  up  of  some  monument  for  God. 

In  the  hope  of  this  requital  it  was  that  she  open- 
ed to  you  her  halls  of  science  ;  that  she  delivered  to 
you  her  lectures  of  instruction,  and  that  she  ofTered 
up,  and  still  offers  up,  her  evening  and  her  morning 
prayers  before  the  altar.  And  will  you  disappoint 
ber  hopes  ?     Ah !  in  her  paternal  eye,  what  a  glori- 


JOYFUL    MEETING    IN    HEAVEN.  177 

ous  spectacle  would  it  be  to  see  the  youth  she  had 
nurtured,  clad  in  celestial  panoply,  everywhere 
breasting  the  storm,  and  breaking  those  bars  of  er- 
ror and  delusion  which  apostacy  "  has  flung  across 
man's  obstructed  way"  to  glory. 

Seeing  then,  beloved  youth,  that  ye  are  compass- 
ed about  by  such  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  be  entreated 
to  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth 
most  easily  beset  you,  and  to  run  with  patience  the 
race  set  before  you,  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author 
and  finisher  of  our  faith ;  who,  for  the  joy  that  was 
set  before  him,  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame, 
and  is  now  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  So 
even  ye,  if  ye  overcome,  shall  set  doivn  with  Christ 
on  his  throne  ;  even  as  he,  having  overcome,  has  set 
down  with  his  Father  on  his  throne. 

What  a  glorious  jubilee  are  pious  children  at  once 
preparing  for  themselves  and  for  their  parents.  Oh 
that  I  were  able  to  direct  your  eye  to  those  favoured 
groups  of  beings,  which  in  yonder  heavens  grace  will 
have  brought  together  !  Each  redeemed  child  which 
the  parent  numbers  in  those  realms  of  glory,  will  be 
by  him  accounted  a  distinct  pledge  of  his  Creator's 
goodness,  an  additional  monument  of  his  Saviour's 
mercy. 

With  what  emotions  will  Abraham  recognise 
among  the  multitude  of  the  saved  that  beloved 
Isaac,  whom,  when  a  lad,  with  so  many  gloomy 
thoughts  he  led  towards  the  altar  upon  one  of  the 
mountains  of  Moriah !  With  what  emotions  will 
Isaac  there  recognise  that  Jacob,  whom  his  eyes, 
through  dimness,  saw  not,  when  he  came  bringing 


178     THE  GRACE  OF  GOD  INVOKED. 

savoury  meat,  and  to  receive  his  paternal  blessing! 
And  how  will  Jacob  exult,  when,  presenting  his  ofT- 
spring  before  his  Saviour,  he  finds  himself  surround- 
ed by  the  twelve  patriarchs — all  the  heads  of  the 
tribes  of  Israel ! 

Nor  less  the  joy  of  every  other  parent,  who,  miss- 
ing no  member  of  his  household,  dares  to  say,  as  he 
stands  amid  the  convocation  of  the  righteous, ''  Here, 
Lord,  am  I,  and  of  all  the  children  thou  hast  given 
me  have  I  lost  none." 

Remember,  ye  youth  who  hear  me,  that  it  is  only 
your  impiety  that  can  deprive  your  pious  parents  of 
such  an  honour,  and  prevent  the  bliss  of  such  a 
meeting. 

Great  God  !  interpose  by  thy  grace,  and  avert 
from  our  children  the  awful  doom  of  final  separation 
from  thy  people  ;  and  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  glory 
in  Christ.     Amen 


THE    APOSTACr.  179 


XL 


[Effects  of  the  Apostacy.— Man  vainly  seeks  for  Happiness  in 
Riches  — in  Power— m  Wisdom.— Man's  boasted  Wisdom 
considered— in  the  Philosophy  of  Mind — in  the  Philosophy  of 
Matter. —  Chymistry. — The  Microscope  —Astronomy. — The 
Telescope. — The  Fixed  Stars.— True  Wisdom  consists  in  the 
Knowledge  of  God. — Pagan  and  Christian  Theology,  in  their 
Character  and  Eftects,  compared. — The  Bible  the  source  ol 
the  most  precious  Knowledge.— To  be  truly  Wise  is  to  under- 
stand the  great  Truths  which  it  reveals,  and  comply  with  its 
Requirements.] 

On  the  morning  of  man's  creation,  the  first  object 
that  met  his  eye  was  the  God  who  formed  him.  If, 
with  a  sentiment  of  personal  consequence,  he  then 
raised  himself  from  his  bed  of  dust,  it  was  the  dig- 
nity of  his  parentage  that  prompted  that  sentiment. 
He  felt  upon  his  heart,  as  it  throbbed  with  life  and 
gratitude,  the  ligament  that  bound  him  to  a  stable 
and  an  eternal  throne.  Little  in  himself,  he  was 
great  as  the  offspring  of  the  Almighty  ;  and  weak  in 
himself,  he  was  strong  in  God's  strength. 

Not  so  striking  or  so  mournful  was  the  change  in 
Erfisn,  when  its  flowers  fell  withered  to  the  earth 
beneath  the  curse  that  smote  it,  as  was  the  change  in 
man,  who,  till  now,  had  continued  his  song  of  praise 
and  worn  his  robe  of  innocence.  But  when  he  de- 
serted God  he  was  deserted  of  him,  and  the  decay 
of  all  his  moral  habits  gave  evidence  of  that  deser- 
tion. Thenceforward  his  tone  of  feeling  and  his 
type  of  character  were  assimilated  to  those  of  the 
fell  spirits,  wandering  from  their  prison,  with  whom 


180  PRIDE    OF    RICHES. 

he  had  become  associated  and  joined  in  interests. 
The  ties  of  filial  affection  broke  bleeding  from  their 
hold ;  the  aspirations  of  filial  love  ceased ;  even  de- 
votion ceased  ;  nor  did  any  inward  sentiment  lift  up 
his  soul  towards  the  Author  of  his  being.  Bewil- 
dered amid  the  mazes  and  benighted  by  the  darkness 
of  his  own  depravity,  on  which  ever  side  he  turned 
him,  the  glories  of  the  Godhead  had  faded  from  his 
eye,  and  the  very  recollections  of  his  mercy  were 
passing  from  his  memory. 

The  desire  of  happiness  remained ;  but  it  had  lost 
its  object,  and  a  mighty  void  was  felt  in  the  bosom 
which  hitherto  God  had  filled.  A  substitute  was 
sought.  A  substitute  has  been  found,  as  the  sinner 
fancies,  in  each  successive  object  which  excites  his 
concupiscence ;  but  all  of  them  alike,  in  the  end, 
fling  back  his  hope  unsatisfied,  and  only  mock  by 
disappointment  his  idolatrous  devotion. 

Sometimes  it  is  riches  that  supplant  God,  and 
the  sinner's  heart  fills  with  covetous  desires.  Ava- 
rice becomes  the  ruling  passion ;  and  in  place  of  the 
man,  erect  in  posture  and  with  an  eye  directed  to 
the  heavens,  the  miser  appears,  inclined  to  the  earth, 
picking  from  the  kennel  each  shining  particle,  eking 
out  his  freehold  by  usurious  purchases,  or  piling 
away  in  coffers,  on  which  mammon  has  been  stamped, 
his  worshipped  treasures.  It  was  covetousness 
that  destroyed  Ahab  ;  it  was  rif  hes  that  beguiled 
Croesus :  since  whose  times  there  has  lived  un- 
blessed, and  died  unwept,  a  race  of  wretches  still 
more  mean  and  more  mercenary,  concerning  whom 
there  is  only  this  memorial  left  on  earth,  thai  their 
God  was  gold. 


PRIDE    OF    POWER    AND     WISDOM.  181 

Sometimes  it  is  might  that  supplants  God  :  when 
a  little  creature,  a  few  feet  high  and  a  few  years  old, 
may  be  seen  walking  in  the  pride  of  his  strength 
and  indulging  in  a  dream  of  his  independence. 
That  haughty  son  of  Anak,  whom  the  sling  of  David 
humbled  while  in  the  act  of  his  proud  defiance,  is 
not  the  only  individual  who  has  been  the  dupe  of 
this  illusion.  It  was  in  might  that  Nimrod  gloried, 
that  Belus  gloried,  together  with  those  later  and 
fiercer  conquerors  who  wielded  the  Grecian  phalanx, 
who  prompted  the  movement  and  smote  with  the 
arm  of  the  Roman  legion :  men  who  left,  even  in 
the  eye  of  posterity,  their  bloody  track  upon  the 
herbage  of  the  valley  and  the  glaciers  of  the  mount- 
ains ;  who  indicated  the  place  of  their  encampment 
by  the  desolation  which  surrounded  it,  and  lit  up  the 
whole  line  of  their  march  to  hell  by  the  fires  of  one 
great,  frightful,  continuous  funeral  pile. 

Sometimes  it  is  wisdom  that  supplants  God : 
when  a  creature,  religious  by  the  very  constitution 
of  his  nature,  is  seen  giving  those  hours  to  study 
which  belong  to  devotion,  and  those  affections  to 
knowledge  which  are  a  tribute  due  to  goodness.  It 
is  among  this  group  of  intellectual  idolaters  that  we 
recognise  the  names  of  Ptolemy,  of  Archimedes,  of 
Aristotle,  of  Plato,  together  with  that  lengthened  cat- 
alogue of  Athenian  sages,  by  the  fire  of  whose  ge- 
nius we  enkindle  our  own,  and  in  the  light  of  whose 
intellect  Athens  is  still  visible  at  the  distance  of  so 
many  generations.  And  if  there  were  anything  but 
God  in  which  it  were  rightful  for  man  to  glory,  it 
should  seem  that  wisdom  were  that  thing.     Its  love 


182  PRIDE    OF    WISDOM. 

is  not  sordid  like  the  love  of  riches  ;  it  is  not  crue\ 
like  that  of  power.  The  groves  of  the  Academy 
are  tranquil,  its  pursuits  are  peaceful :  alas !  that 
they  are  not  always  holy. 

For  years  you  have  joined  in  those  vigils  which 
are  kept  beside  the  quenchless  lamp  that  philosophy 
hath  kindled  ;  and  high  in  hope,  and  decked  with 
classic  honours,  you  are  about  to  enter  on  the  world. 
At  such  a  moment,  how  chilling  to  youthful  ardour, 
to  literary  enterprise,  is  the  rebuke  that  meets  you 
at  the  very  threshold  :  "  Let  not  the  iinse  mayi  gloinj 
in  his  ivisdom.^^ 

So  spake  not  Socrates,  so  spake  not  Seneca,  so 
spake  not  Cicero.  The  lecture-room  conveyed  no 
such  counsel,  the  Lyceum  contained  no  soch  oracle. 
No,  it  did  not :  this  is  not  the  language  of  Athens, 
but  of  Zion.  We  are  not  now  among  the  groves  of 
the  Academy,  we  are  not  beside  the  seat  of  the 
Muses.  Here,  it  is  not  the  harp  of  Orpheus,  but 
of  David,  that  is  struck,  and  the  song  it  breathes  is 
not  in  the  manner  of  Homer  or  of  Hesiod,  but  of 
Isaiah  and  Habakkuk.  We  are  associated  with  the 
disciples  of  a  Christian  school  ;  we  have  entered 
the  vestibule  of  a  Christian  temple,  where  all  that  is 
splendid  in  intellect,  as  well  as  all  that  is  splendid  in 
fortune,  is  eclipsed  by  the  intenser  splendours  of 
righteousness. 

Never  was  counsel  more  timely  or  more  pertinent 
than  that  which  is  now  addressed  to  you  from  the 
hill  of  Zion,  and  by  the  lips  of  a  prophet  of  the  Lord. 
Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom. 

And  why  should  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wis- 


PHILOSOPHY    OF    MIND.  18^^ 

dom  ?  After  all  the  ostentatious  eulogy  that  grace- 
less  learning,  that  unbaptized  philosophy  has  bestow- 
ed on  itself,  what  is  there  that  should  make  a  reli- 
gious being,  a  being  of  moral  capacities,  glory  in  it  ? 
After  all  the  enlargement  of  modern  discovery,  and 
sublime  as  the  march  of  genius  is  said  to  have  been 
during  the  last  centuries  of  the  six  thousand  years 
that  have  passed  away,  has  the  wisdom  of  the  schools 
become  either  so  clear  in  its  views,  so  vast  in 

ITS   REACH,  or   SO    SUBLIME   AND   SPIRITUAL  IN    ITS 

NATURE,  as  to  entitle  it  to  such  high  distinction  ? 

Has  it  become  so  clear  in  its  views,  so  vast 
IN  its  reach  ?  Or,  rather,  does  not  human  intel- 
lect, bewildered  amid  a  mighty  maze,  and  met  and 
mocked  at  every  turn  with  mystery,  still  look  with 
weak,  and  wavering,  and  tremulous  perception  on  a 
little  span  only ;  a  mere  hand's  breadth,  taken  be- 
side those  bold  and  interminable  lines  of  wisdom, 
the  direction  of  which  is  so  soon  hidden  in  the  dis- 
tance which  they  run  upon  the  great,  measureless, 
smtravelled  map  of  infinite  intelligence  ?  Is  it  not 
even  so  ?  I  put  it  to  your  own  experience.  You 
have  passed  your  examinations  in  the  lecture-room  : 
take  your  last  in  the  sanctuary  and  at  the  altar  of 
your  God. 

Is  it  in  the  philosophy  of  mind  that  your  wisdom 
is  so  clear  and  comprehensive  ?  You  have  studied 
the  philosophy  of  mind  ;  you  have  noticed  and  named 
the  more  obvious  acts  of  the  soul  within  you  and  of 
the  souls  around  you.  Have  you  done  more  than 
this?  If  so,  with  all  that  more,  can  you  inform  me 
what  the  soul  within  you  is  ?  or  what  the  tie  that 


184  PHILOSOPHY    OF    MIND. 

unites  it  to  the  body  on  which  it  acts,  and  by  which 
it  is  acted  on  so  wondrously  1  Whence  that  waking 
and  that  sleeping  state  it  assumes  ahernately  ;  those 
bewildering  dreams  that  characterize  the  one,  and 
the  more  orderly  perceptions  that  predominate  in  the 
other  1  How  do  its  volitions  arise  ?  How  is  its 
train  of  thought  kept  up  ?  Or  how,  blind  to  the  future 
as  it  is,  does  memory  bring  back  with  such  acknowl- 
edge accuracy  the  past  ?  Can  you  answer  these  in- 
quiries 1  You  know  you  cannot :  nor  can  youi 
teachers  answer  them.  Such  knowledge  is  too  won 
derful  for  us.  Does  glorying  in  it,  then,  befit  you  1 
David  did  not  think  so,  when,  struck  by  the  sublime 
incomprehensibility  of  his  own  mysterious  being,  he 
uttered  that  humble  and  heartfelt  note  of  homage^ 
/  ivill  praise  thee,  for  I  am  fearfully  and  ivonderfully 
made, 

I  pass  to  the  souls  of  others.  Take  those  with 
which  you  are  most  familiar ;  the  members  of  the 
families  in  which  you  have  resided  ;  the  companions 
with  whom  you  have  associated ;  the  class  with 
which  you  have  so  often  met.  To  say  nothing  of 
that  great  world  of  spirits  above  you  and  around  you, 
do  you  understand  and  can  you  explain  what  pass- 
es within  even  this  narrow  limit ;  this  bird's-eye 
field  of  vision  ?  The  eccentricity  of  taste,  the  pe- 
I'uliarity  of  temper,  the  diversity  of  talent,  the  variety 
of  opinion,  the  secret  motive  of  action,  the  sudden 
change  of  purpose,  the  transformation  of  habits,  the 
revolution  of  character,  the  communication  of  feel- 
ing, the  contagion  of  passion,  together  with  all  those 
varieties  of  action  and  reaction  with  which  related 


CHYMISTRY.  185 

beings  are  affected — do  you  see  these  things  as  God 
sees  them  1  Or,  rather,  do  not  mysteries  meet  you 
at  every  step,  and  rests  there  not  even  on  this  select 
and  frequented  field,  and  on  every  part  of  it,  a  veil 
which  no  arm  can  lift,  no  eye  but  the  Omniscient 
penetrate  ? 

Is  iU  then,  in  the  philosophy  of  matter  that  your 
loisdom  is  clear  and  comprehensive  ? 

In  chymistry  there  have  been  recent  and  great  dis- 
coveries. With  these  you  have  become  acquainted. 
You  have  familiarized  yourselves  with  tables  of  chym- 
ical  affinity ;  you  have  learned  the  names  and  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  properties  of  certain  agents. 
More  than  this,  you  have  been  within  the  laboratory, 
seen  experiments  in  analysis  and  combination,  and 
witnessed  the  action  of  electricity  and  of  fire.  But 
have  you,  as  yet,  detected  that  hidden  agency  that 
solves  the  solid  in  the  crucible,  or  that  causes  in  the 
liquid  the  elemental  movement  at  the  touch  of  the 
galvanic  pile  ? 

You  have  analyzed  the  air.  Can  you  tell  me  why 
it  renders  percussion  audible  ?  You  have  separated 
the  rays  of  the  solar  beam.  Can  you  tell  me  why 
it  renders  visible  the  bodies  on  which  it  falls  ?  You 
have  analyzed  the  dewdrop.  Why  does  it  ripen  the 
vintage  ?  You  have  analyzed  the  spring  shower. 
Why  does  it  refresh  the  herbage,  and  brighten  the 
verdure  on  which  the  eye  so  sweetly  reposes  ? 

Among  all  the  processes  of  combination  and  anal- 
ysis through  which  you  have  travelled,  is  there  one 
step  in  either  which  you  have  comprehended  ?  or  did 
(ou  ever  discover,  in  a  single  instance,  that  unreveaK 
P 


186  THE    MICROSCOPE. 

ed  connexion  between  your  experiment  and  the  re- 
sult ?  You  have  been  schooled  to  little  purpose  if 
you  have  yet  to  understand  that  here,  emphatically, 
learning  teaches  the  more  effectually  "  to  know  how 
little  can  be  known." 

Let  us  leave  these  intricacies,  these  mimic  pro- 
cesses of  formation,  and  glance  at  the  simpler  and 
the  lovelier  forms  of  nature.  Here,  too,  regarding 
only  the  visible  and  tangible  quahties  of  bodies,  how 
circumscribed  is  your  wisdom  !  Even  the  eye,  the 
most  excursive  organ  and  the  richest  source  of  knowl- 
edge, is  confined  in  its  information  within  humble 
limits.  Above,  and  beneath,  and  around,  there  are 
elements  too  subtile,  and  bodies  too  near  or  too  re- 
mote, too  large  or  too  minute,  to  be  brought  within 
its  field  of  vision. 

But  you  have  surmounted  this  obstacle  to  univer- 
sal science.  You  have  remedied  the  defects  of  the 
natural  eye  by  the  intervention  of  artificial  glasses. 
Still,  even  this  expedient,  which  extends  so  wonder- 
fully the  range  of  human  knowledge,  only  renders 
more  direct  and  palpable  the  evidence  of  human  ig- 
norance. 

Before  this  expedient  was  resorted  to,  the  blos- 
som that  hung  suspended  from  the  fruit-tree  was,  in 
the  eye  of  man,  but  a  blossom  ;  nor  had  it  any  oth- 
er or  higher  use  than  to  shelter  the  tender  fruit  which 
it  enfolded.  Now  that  blossom  is  seen  to  be  the 
base  of  a  vast  and  complicated  system,  and  carries 
on  its  surface,  and  on  every  fibre  of  its  surface,  the 
ample  habitation  of  many  a  living  creature.  Nor 
that  blossom  only.     Every  kaf  pf  the  forest,  eyery 


ANIMALCULiE.  187 

flower  of  the  field,  every  spear  of  grass  in  the  valley 
and  on  the  mountain-top,  breathes  beneath  the  mi- 
croscopic lens  with  animation,  and  teems  with  life. 
A  population  as  vast,  a  movement  as  constant  and  as 
hurried,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  as  full  of  incident 
and  interest,  takes  place  on  the  surface  of  every 
new  world  thus  brought  forth  to  view  from  its  ob- 
scurity, as  takes  place  on  the  surface  of  that  world ' 
the  spectator  treads  on.  Other,  and  still  other,  and 
yet  other  compartments  are  unfolded,  and  new  races 
of  beings  pass  before  the  eye,  as  glasses  of  greater, 
and  still  greater  and  greater  magnifying  powers  are 
interposed.  Indeed,  the  farther  this  downward  track 
to  nothingness  is  travelled,  the  farther  seems  to 
stretch  the  still  untravelled  residue.  No  glass  has 
yet  been  found  of  power  to  reach  quite  down  to 
non-existence.  Not  even  the  nether  limit  of  cre- 
ation has  been  fixed.  That  line  is  yet  undrawn  that 
marks  creation's  minimum — Jehovah's  ne,  plus  ultra. 
After  all  this  reach  with  artificial  means  to  little- 
ness, that  distant  unknown  point,  that  barrier  to  ex- 
istence, still  remains  to  be  discovered,  beyond  whose 
fearful  verge  the  atoms  are  too  small  for  God  to 
organize,  the  space  too  narrow  for  God  to  work  in. 
Beneath  us,  as  around  us,  all  is  mystery.  There  is 
a  profound  in  litdeness  too  vast  for  man  to  compass, 
too  deep  for  man  to  fathom.  Even  here  God's 
counsels  are  unsearchable,  and  His  ways  past  find- 
ing out. 

Let  us  turn,  then,  to  larger  masses  and  bolder 
lines.  Astronomy  is  a  more  certain  science.  It  is 
so.      Still,  even  here,  though  there  be  many  a  ies^ 


188  ASTRONOMY. 

son  of  humility,  there  is  none  of  pride  written  on 
the  firmament :  at  least  there  is  none  when  read 
from  the  hill  of  Zion  and  in  the  light  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. For,  seen  in  this  light,  it  is  God's  glory  that 
yonder  heavens  declare.  It  is  His  handiwork  which 
that  firmament  above  us  showeth  forth.  Of  Him 
only,  day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  showeth  knowledge.  Even  a  royal  observer, 
surveying  the  heavens  which  God  has  made,  and 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  are  the  work  of  His 
fingers,  uttered,  in  view  of  them,  only  this  submissive 
reflection,  "  Lord,  tvhat  is  man,  that  thou  art  mind- 
ful of  him  ?  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest 
him  ?  But  the  astronomy  of  the  schools  is  not  the 
astronomy  of  the  sanctuary.  To  the  novice,  in- 
structed only  in  the  latter,  the  earth,  fixed  and  mo- 
tionless, spreads  out  its  ample  surface,  forming  on 
every  side  the  base  which  supports  the  arches  of  the 
sky,  across  which  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars,  and 
planets,  in  undistinguished  order,  make  their  daily 
and  their  nightly  marches.  Even  this  is  grand  and 
awful,  especially  since  God  is  seen  to  direct  the 
movement. 

You,  however,  are  able  to  correct  these  vulgar 
errors.  You  can  tell  the  novice,  schooled  in  the 
sanctuary,  and  who  has  derived  his  notions  of  the 
dimensions  of  the  universe,  not  from  the  measure- 
ments of  Newton,  but  from  the  melodies  of  Asaph, 
that  the  earth  is  not  a  plane,  as  he  supposes,  but  a 
globe ;  and  a  globe  of  secondary  magnitude,  hung 
in  open  space,  measuring  the  day  by  a  revolution 
on  its  axis,  and  the  year  by  the  circuit  it  performs 


WONDERS    OF    THE    HEAVENS,  189 

around  the  sun,  the  common  centre  of  the  earth, 
and  of  those  other  related  planets  which,  with  their 
train  of  secondaries,  constitute  this  system. 

To  confirm  your  doctrine  and  strengthen  his  con 
viction  of  your  superiority,  you  adjust  the  telescope 
to  his  eye  and  point  it  to  the  neighbouring  planet. 
With  reverential  awe  he  looks  upon  the  hills  and 
valleys,  the  morasses,  and  the  plains  that  diversify 
yon  silvery  surface.  His  eye  catches  the  illumi- 
nated summits  that  glitter  in  the  sunbeam ;  and, 
thence  descending,  traces  the  lengthening  shadows 
that  stretch  from  the  broad  bases  of  the  lunar  mount- 
ains. You  turn  the  instrument  to  another,  and  an- 
other, and  another  of  those  kindred  planets,  which 
hang,  with  their  bright  array  of  belts  and  moons, 
from  the  solar  centre. 

Amazed,  he  pauses  and  reflects  upon  this  vision. 
The  earth  he  trod  on  has  sunk  beneath  him,  and  the 
heavens  he  looks  at  rise  into  greater  majesty.  A 
thousand  interesting  conjectures  start  up,  a  thousand 
anxious  inquiries  arise.  And  who  so  competent  to 
answer  them  as  he  who,  by  his  superior  wisdom,  un- 
folded tha  regions  to  which  they  relate  1  Proud  of 
this  distinction,  and  confident  of  your  ability  to  main- 
tain it,  you  proceed  to  reply.  Naming  the  planets, 
you  tell  him  their  respective  densities  and  distances, 
the  inclinations  of  their  axes,  and  the  angles  their  or- 
bits make  with  the  ecliptic.  You  acquaint  him  with 
the  seasons  of  Yenus,  the  length  of  a  day  at  Jupi- 
ter, and  the  duration  of  the  year  of  the  more  distant 
Saturn.  Elated  with  this  success,  and  anxious  to 
know  still  more  of  those  worlds  you  have  introdijced 


190  WONDERS    OF    THE    HEAVENS. 

to  his  acquaintance,  he  asks  to  be  informed  of  what 
material  they  are  composed,  when  they  were  created, 
how  long  they  will  continue,  and  what  high  purpose 
they  were  designed  to  answer.  But  you  tell  him 
not. 

Again  he  demands,  what  is  the  nature  of  their 
soil,  the  kind  and  variety  of  their  productions,  the 
number  of  their  inhabitants,  the  form  of  their  gov- 
ernments, the  character  of  their  literature,  and  the 
deeds  of  glory  recorded  in  their  histories  and  cel- 
ebrated in  their  songs.  Has  sin  entered  there  ?  he 
asks  ;  has  death  1  or  has  salvation  been  proclaimed  1 
Again  you  are  silent.  You  answer  not,  because 
you  cannot  answer.  No  eyeglass  has  made  visible 
the  hails  of  justice  or  the  temples  of  devotion  on 
either  of  the  planets ;  no  turrets  are  seen,  to  indi- 
cate their  cities  of  commerce  or  their  seats  of  em- 
pire ;  nor  has  a  sigh  or  murmur,  or  a  single  shout 
of  triumph,  ever  yet  been  sent  down  to  earth  from 
yon  distant  conjectural  population.  Thus,  even 
here,  your  boasted  wisdom  dwindles  to  a  me^e 
knowledge  of  the  naked  facts  of  distance,  revolu- 
tion, and  dimension.  But  on  every  question  of 
moral  moment,  concerning  all  that  renders  distance, 
and  revolution,  and  dimension  interesting,  with  all 
your  parade  of  the  measurements  of  Newton,  you  • 
are  as  profoundly  ignorant,  nay,  much  more  so,  than 
that  humble  learner  who  has  gathered  his  notions  of 
the  dimensions  of  the  universe  from  the  meditations 
of  Job  or  the  devotional  songs  of  Asaph. 

Nor,  if  we  pass  beyond  the  planets,  will  your  wis- 
dom be  found  more  decisive.     How  much  can  you 


WONDEB'^   OF    THE    HEAVENS.  191 

here  tell  the  peasant  .;om  his  cottage,  or  even  the 
Indian  from  his  thicket,  which  he  before  knew  not  ] 

You  can  tell  him  that  those  stars  he  sees,  and 
which  seem  mere  radiant  points,  are  suns,  and  a 
million  times  larger  than  the  earth  he  treads  on. 
That  their  distance  is  so  great,  that,  were  they  struck 
from  existence,  their  continued  light  would  fall  upon 
the  eyes  of  unborn  generations  ;  and  centuries  elapse 
before  those  rays  they  have  already  sent  forth,  and 
whose  speed  is  the  speed  of  lightning,  would  have 
travelled  down  from  their  amazing  height  to  the  little 
planet  we  inhabit ! 

You  might,  recurring  again  to  the  help  of  glass- 
es, show  him  other  and  still  more  distant,  and  yet 
other  and  still  more  distant  central  orbs,  till  you  had 
numbered  millions  ;  each  a  sun,  filling  its  separate 
system  with  hght  and  heat,  and  seen,  even  across  the 
immeasurable  space  between  us,  in  the  blaze  of  its 
own  unborrowed  glory. 

Here,  at  this  last,  farthest,  extremest  range  of  as- 
tral observation,  vision  ceases,  and  with  it  ceases  all 
your  information.  But  whether  even  this  is  crea- 
tion's ultimate  limit,  you  know  not,  nor  does  any 
other  mortal  know.  For  who  can  tell  whether  even 
the  range  of  Herschel's  larger  telescope  was  the  fix- 
ed radius  to  which  Jehovah  set  his  compass,  when  he 
swept  on  every  side  that  mighty  circle  which  divides 
the  universe  from  chaos,  and  indicates  the  field  with- 
in whose  limits  His  infinite,  eternal  spirit  broods  and 
operates  1  Or  whether  other  and  still  more  power- 
ful glasses  would  iiot  unfold  another  and  a  vaster 
range  of  constellated  glories,  scattered  with  a  bolder 


192  WONDERS    OF    THE    HEAVENS. 

hand,  and  planted  at  a  more  awful  distance  ?  This 
vaster  range  unfolded,  whether  even  this  were  all ;  or 
only  some  small  province,  some  unimportant  mem- 
ber of  a  yet  mightier  empire,  whose  limits  and  whose 
line  of  measure,  reaching  beyond  the  ken  of  angels, 
is  only  known  to  Him  who  governs  it;  and  from 
some  loftier  height  of  which  an  eye  looks  down  on 
us,  and  on  those  suns  and  planets  which  stretch 
across  our  firmament,  as  we  look  down  upon  the  hid- 
den glories  which  the  microscope  reveals  suspended 
on  the  fibres  of  the  vernal  flower;  and  which  suns  and 
planets,  if  swept  from  existence,  would  be  as  little 
missed  amid  the  mightier  fabrics  that  still  remained, 
as  would  be  that  flower,  withered  on  its  stem,  among 
the  varied,  rich  array  of  blooming  nature. 

Whether  we  take  our  stand  beneath  the  seen  or 
the  unseen  firmament,  how  insignificant  is  man ! 
Surrounded  by  such  an  infinitude  of  objects — ob- 
jects scattered  through  such  measureless  extension, 
what  can  a  creature  know  of  distance  or  of  matter  ? 
Or,  space  and  matter  known,  why  should  a  moral 
being  glory  in  that  knowledge  ? 

Ah !  could  you  lift  the  Christian  from  the  sanctu- 
ary up  to  ethereal  heights,  and  plant  before  him,  a  fix- 
ed star  its  pedestal,  some  mightier  telescope  than 
HerschePs,  and,  turning  from  point  to  point  its  am- 
ple tube,  show  him  the  kingdoms  of  the  universe  (as 
Satan  did  his  master  the  kingdoms  of  the  world),  how 
would  one  thought  of  God — that  God  he  worshipped 
in  the  sanctuary,  and  whom,  placed  among  the  constel- 
lations, he  still  worships — how  would  one  thought  of 
God,  even  amid  this  boundless,  this  glorious  prospect, 


KNOWLEDGE    OP    GOD.  193 

dazzle  into  darkness  all  that  is  bright,  and  sink  into 
insignificance  all  that  is  great !  Descending  from 
his  empyrean  height,  and  re-entering  the  sanctuary, 
how  would  he  sympathize  with  yet  profounder  hu- 
mility in  the  sentiment  of  the  prophet  now  addressed 
to  you  :  Tims  saith  the  Lord  :  Let  not  the  wise  man 
glory  in  his  ivisdom ;  but  let  him  that  glorieth,  glory 
in  this,  that  he  understandeth  and  knoiveth  JMe ; 
that  I  am  the  Lord,  luho  exercise  loving  kindness, 
judgment,  and  righteousness  in  the  earth. 

Whatever  else  we  may  know,  it  is  the  knowledge 
of  God — no  matter  whether  obtained  beneath  the 
ceiling  of  a  temple  or  the  ceiling  of  the  firmament — 
on  a  globe  of  earth  or  a  sun  of  fire — it  is  the  knowl- 
edge of  God  which  alone  gives  value  and  character  to 
all  our  other  knowledge.  It  is  the  recognition  of  his 
great  mastering  spirit  amid  the  elemental  movements 
— disposing  the  atom,  balancing  in  air  the  vapour, 
guiding  down  to  earth  the  sunbeam,  sending  forward 
to  the  shore  the  billow  of  the  ocean,  darfing  forth  from 
the  tempest-driven  cloud  the  lightning,  shaking  the 
mountains  amid  the  earthquake,  staying  the  constel- 
lations in  their  places,  binding  the  planetary  masses 
to  their  centres,  and  propelling  the  blazing  comet 
along  its  elongated  orbit — it  is  the  recognition  of  his 
great  mastering  spirit  amid  these  elemental  move- 
ments that  strikes  the  silent  awe,  that  wakes  the  sol- 
emn interest !  Ah  !  you  may  measure  the  distance 
of  the  stars ;  you  may  subject  to  analysis  the  ele- 
ments ;  but  in  God  only  will  you  find  that  energy  by 
which  they  act,  that  immensity  in  which  they  move. 

Mind  has  a  higher  majesty  than   matter;    the 


194  PAGAN    DIVINITIES. 

knowledge  of  it  is  sublirner  knowledge  ;  and  of  tins 
knowledge,  that  of  the  eternal  mind  is  immeasurably 
the  most  sublime.  There  is  an  inward  sentiment 
in  man  which  renders  reasoning  on  this  topic  use- 
less. A  false  and  feverish  spirit  of  devotion,  even 
where  God  has  been  rejected,  prompts  the  deluded 
worshipper  to  seek  a  substitute.  The  territories  of 
pagan  Rome  were  endeared  by  their  imaginary  genii, 
and  the  rivers  and  fountains  thereof  were  consecra- 
ted by  their  nymphs  and  naiads.  It  was  not  the 
form  of  Ida  nor  the  height  of  Olympus,  but  the 
gods  who  frequented  them,  that  caused  those  hills  of 
Greece  to  be  so  intensely  interesting.  Even  Ho- 
mer has  flung  additional  enchantment  over  the  con- 
flicts he  describes,  whether  of  the  elements  or  of 
armies,  by  the  subUme  agency  of  those  superior  be- 
ings made  by  his  creative  fancy,  and  so  admirably 
marshalled  and  governed  through  all  the  varied  in- 
cidents of  his  imperishable  song. 

But  oh !  what  deeper  interest,  what  loftier  feeling 
is  excited  when,  not  the  Jupiter  or  the  Mercury  of 
Homer,  but  the  Elohim  of  Abraham,  the  Jehovah 
of  Moses  appears  :  seated,  neither  on  Olympus  nor 
on  Ida,  but  enthroned  amid  his  own  immutable  per- 
fections— filling  with  his  eternity  all  duration,  and  all 
immensity  with  his  omnipresence  ! 

Taste,  as  well  as  morals,  is  infinitely  indebted  to 
those  richer  views  of  goodness,  those  bolder  lines 
of  wisdom,  and  that  loftier  march  of  power,  which 
from  the  hills  of  Zion  the  holy  seer  has  rendered 
visible  along  the  whole  course  of  Providence,  and 
throughout  every  field  of  nature. 


THEOLOGY    OF    THE    BIBLE.  195 

That  juster  and  sublimer  theology  of  Moses  and 
the  prophets,  of  Christ  and  his  apostles,  has  banish- 
ed not  only  the  hero  gods  of  the  poets  from  our  al- 
tars, but  also  that  profane  and  countless  rabble  of 
crawling,  purring,  mewing,  bleating,  barking,  hissing 
divinities  from  our  fountains  and  our  rivers,  from 
our  fields  and  our  forests. 

The  walk  of  friendship  is  far  more  sweet,  as  is 
the  walk  of  contemplation  far  more  intellectual, 
when  only  the  one  almighty,  universal  God  is  seen, 
exerting  everywhere  his  wakeful  vigilance,  and 
throwing  around  each  little  being  the  arms  of  his 
protection,  than  when  the  bewildered  wanderer  is  met 
at  every  turn  by  the  factitious  agency  of  demons, 
smiling  in  the  dewdrop,  scowling  in  the  December 
cloud,  sighing  mournfully  through  the  forests  in  the. 
mountain  breeze,  or  shrieking  angrily  from  the  billow 
in  the  ocean  tempest. 

Nor  the  walk  of  friendship  only  :  a  richer  colour- 
ing, a  sublimer  aspect  is  given  to  the  whole  of  na- 
ture, and  a  loftier  train  of  associated  grandeurs  rise 
in  prospect,  when  her  incomprehensible  phenomena 
are  held  in  contemplation,  in  connexion  only  with 
that  one  great,  all-pervading  Spirit  whom  the  Bible 
reveals. 

Ah  !  how  are  the  horn  of  Ceres,  the  arrow  of 
Mercury,  the  trident  of  Neptune,  the  thunderbolt  of 
Jupiter,  with  whatever  other  pagan  symbols  of  di- 
vinity glow  on  the  canvass,  breathe  from  the  statue, 
or  rise  in  bold  relief  from  the  pages  of  the  poet — 
how  is  this  diminutive,  contemptible  machinery  blot- 
ted from  the  fancy  by  the  august  conception  of  that 


196  CONTEMPLATION    OF    NATURE. 

awful  Being,  of  whom  the  prophet  amid  the  gran 
deurs  of  Sinai  saw  no  similitude,  and  of  whom  the 
awestruck  Israelite,  dropping  from  his  trembling 
hand  the  instrument  of  his  art,  attempted  none  ! 
For,  being  once  possessed  with  the  grand  idea  of 
the  self-existent  Spirit,  he  felt  upon  his  heart,  as  the 
disciples  of  the  same  school  now  feel  upon  theirs,  a 
deep  conviction  that,  however  pagans  might  paint 
and  mould  the  humble  idols  of  their  devotion,  the 
real  and  the  living  God  is  not  like  anything  that 
may  be  drawn  upon  the  canvass  or  hewed  from  the 
marble  :  nay,  that,  being  himself  the  maker  of  all 
things,  he  is  not  like,  and  therefore  may  not  be  pro- 
fanely likened,  either  in  sculpture,  in  painting,  or  in 
song,  to  anything  which  he  has  made,  whether  in 
heaven  above,  or  in  the  earth  beneath,  or  in  the  wa- 
ters under  the  earth. 

It  is  not  with  Homer,  or  Virgil,  or  Lucretius,  but 
with  Moses,  and  Job,  and  David  in  his  hand,  that 
the  man  of  taste  should  contemplate  the  scenery  of 
nature.  In  the  heavenly  light  which  revelation 
throws  over  the  wonders  of  creation,  oh  !  how  I  love 
to  mark  the  blaze  of  noonday,  to  catch  the  breeze  of 
evening,  to  watch  the  shadows  lengthening  from  the 
mountains  as  the  sun  descends  behind  them,  to  sur- 
vey the  fading  landscape  beneath  the  lingering  twi- 
light, or  raise  my  wondering  eye  up  to  the  grandeur 
of  the  midnight  firmament !  All  is  significant,  all  is 
replete  with  interest ;  for  it  speaks  the  watchful  and 
active  presence  of  a  spirit  infinite,  who  sees  even 
me,  marks  out  my  path  amid  this  mighty  movement, 
and  shields  my  being  from  the  crush  of  yon  uplifted 
worlds. 


THE    BIBLE.  197 

But  it  is  not  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  as  the 
all-powerful  Governor  of  the  material  elements — 
though  this  is  knowledge  more  sublime  than  any 
which  blind,  but  proud  philosophy  imparts — it  is  not 
this  knowledge,  but  the  knowledge  of  Him  as 

THE  RIGHTEOUS  GOVERNOR  OF  A  MORAL  UNIVERSE, 

AND  OF  EVERY  PART  OF  IT,  that  we  are  this  day 
called  to  glory  in. 

With  this  knowledge  we  associate  neither  Ida  nor 
Olympus,  hills  of  Greece,  but  Carmel  and  Sharon, 
hills  of  Palestine.  For  here  it  is  not  the  poets  of 
Athens,  it  is  not  the  philosophers  of  Athens,  but  the 
prophets  of  Judah,  fishermen  from  the  Sea  of  Galilee 
and  the  Lake  of  Gennesaret  who  are  our  teachers. 

Here  the  Bible  is  our  only  text- book.  To  it  all 
appeals  are  made,  from  it  all  deductions  are  drawn. 
Its  doctrines  are  Jehovah's  declarations.  These 
are  truth  itself.  All  we  gather  elsewhere  is  only 
ornament  or  illustration.  The  learned  and  the  un- 
learned, on  the  subject  of  religion,  are  all  alike  shut 
up  wholly  to  the  faith.  No  eyeglass  of  philosophy 
reaches  quite  up  to  heaven  or  down  to  hell.  As- 
tronomy affords  no  tables  that  assist  to  calculate  the 
soul's  duration.  Chymistry  has  not  yet  revealed 
the  analysis  of  death,  nor  taught  her  proud  disciple 
how  to  recompose  the  body  once  turned  to  disso- 
lution. We  have  heard,  indeed,  of  the  perfectibility 
of  man's  physical  as  well  as  moral  nature.  We 
have  heard  of  the  progressive  triumphs  of  medicine 
over  disease,  and  of  the  prospect  of  its  ultimate  tri- 
umph over  death  itself.  But  no  facts  corroborate 
tbja  boastful  theory.     As  yet,  the  march  of  science 


198  THE    BIBLE. 

has  not  kept  pace  with  the  march  of  death.  While 
the  limit  of  knowledge  has  been  extending,  the  limit 
of  life  has  been  contracting,  and  it  is  even  now  re- 
duced to  a  span.  Methusaleh  lived  nine  hundred 
and  sixty-nine  years ;  neither  Newton  nor  Halley 
lived  a  century  :  all  their  compeers  in  wisdom  have 
already  forsaken  us,  and  the  locks  of  Herschel, 
their  disciple,  are  whitening  for  the  sepulchre.  JSTo 
astronomer  has  yet  been  able  to  trace  a  practicable 
path  from  mortal  up  to  immortality,  nor  has  the 
tomb  of  any  alchymist,  like  that  which  contained 
Elisha's  bones,  quickened  his  remains  enclosed  with- 
in it.  The  time  is  far  distant  when  the  druggist 
shall  vend  an  antidote  for  death,  or  the  chymist,  by 
any  subtile  process,  revivify  the  ashes  of  the  urn. 

All  of  moral  moment  that  we  know  on  these  high 
subjects  God  has  told  us.  And  all  that  God  has 
told  us  is  written  in  that  authentic  record  of  his  will 
and  revelation  of  his  purposes,  the  Bible. 

Here  we  learn,  what  philosophy  teaches  not,  or 
only  indistinctly  teaches,  that  material  pomp  and 
splendour  do  not  constitute  the  only  or  the  princi- 
pal exhibition  of  the  Godhead  ;  that  matter,  and  mag- 
nitude, and  distance  are  no  more  than  his  theatre  of 
action ;  that,  amid  this  outward  movement  of  nu- 
merous worlds,  and  the  conflict  of  mighty  elements, 
he  is  carrying  forward  a  vast,  continuous,  and  eter- 
nal plan  of  wisdom  and  of  goodness,  which  embraces 
not  only  the  armies  of  heaven  and  the  legions  of 
hell,  but  all  the  dwellers  that  are  upon  the  earth. 

Wide  as  his  empire  extends,  and  countless  as  are 
the  worlds  which  spread  their  wants  before  his  eye 


BIRTH    or    CHRIST.  199 

and  present  their  claims  upon  his  attention  and  his 
mercy,  how  welcome  the  message  assuring  us  that 
God,  rich  in  the  resources  of  his  own  exhaustless  at- 
tributes, has  time  and  goodness  to  exercise  loving 
kindness,  judgment,  and  righteousness,  in  this  incon- 
siderable province  of  his  immeasurable  domains. 
Cold  to  gratitude  must  the  heart  be,  and  dead  to  vir- 
tue, which  does  not  respond  to  that  annunciation  of 
the  angel  to  which  the  heavenly  host  responded, "  Be- 
hold, I  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall 
be  to  all  people  ;  for  unto  you  is  born  in  the  city  of 
David  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord."  Were  a 
wandering  planet,  that  had  been  driven  by  some  con- 
v'ulsion  from  its  orbit,  brought  back  to  move  in  it 
again,  or  were  the  fires  of  some  quenched  sun  re- 
kindled in  the  firmament,  would  philosophy  behold 
such  renovation  with  indifference?  And  was  it, 
think  you,  an  incident  of  minor  interest,  when  the 
light  of  virtue  again  broke  forth  from  the  dark  disk 
of  the  moral  world,  driven  by  apostacy  from  its 
sphere  of  duty,  and  wandering  away  from  its  centre, 
God ;  but  now  brought  back,  to  move,  and  shine, 
and  harmonize,  a  redeemed  member  in  the  one  great 
and  changeless  system  of  love  and  righteousness? 
So  thought  not  the  angels.  Ah !  what  an  hour  was 
that,  when  on  the  strings  of  a  thousand  harps  there 
trembled  this  note  of  exultation,  Alleluiah,  For  a 
world  tvas  lost,  hut  is  found  :  was  dead,  but  is  alive 
again. 

It  is  the  exercise  of  God's  loving  kindness  on  the 
earth  which  has  made  it  the  theatre  of  scenes  that 
excited  the  highest  joy  in  heaven,  and  awoke  in  an- 


200       GOD*S  COVENANT  MERCIES. 

gelic  minds  the  deepest  emotions.  True,  in  dimen- 
sions it  is  a  little  world,  but  its  interests  are  vastly 
important  in  the  plan  of  Providence.  It  is  the  world 
where  Adam  once  lived  in  innocence,  and  where  the 
posterity  of  Adam  will  be  raised  in  power.  Defaced 
as  its  beauty  has  been,  and  rebellious  as  its  inhabi- 
tants have  become,  it  still  retains  many  an  impress 
of  mercy  on  its  surface,  and  many  a  beacon  of  hope 
rises  along  the  entire  line  of  its  duration. 

At  no  period  of  its  history  has  it  been  completely 
abandoned.  Even  in  its  antediluvian  age,  Enoch 
walked  with  God,  and  Noah  preached  righteousness. 
Thereafter  a  covenant  was  made  with  Abraham,  and 
many  a  subsequent  message  was  conveyed  from 
heaven  to  earth,  through  the  ministry  of  angels  or 
the  inspiration  of  prophets.  In  the  record  of  its  his- 
tory we  read  of  the  ladder  of  Jacob,  the  chariot  of 
Elijah,  and  that  bush  of  Moses  which  burned,  but 
consumed  not ;  and,  after  the  revolution  of  so  many 
ages,  there  may  yet  be  pointed  out  upon  its  map 
that  Sinai  where  the  tables  of  the  law  were  given, 
and  that  Moriah  on  which  the  temple  of  Jehovah 
stood.  But  its  tenderest  memorials  of  the  past,  its 
surest  tokens  for  the  future,  are  its  manger  of  Beth- 
lehem, its  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  its  Hill  of  Calvary, 
its  rock  of  Joseph,  and  its  top  of  Olivet. 

These  are  points  of  vision  on  which  the  eye  of  a 
sinner,  nay,  of  a  seraph,  rests  with  more  rapturous 
hopes,  gathering  more  sublime  associations  than  from 
the  radiant  orbs  in  that  mighty  range  of  constellated 
glories  which  the  telescope  reveals. 

Not  without  reason  did  an  angelic  messenger 


KNOWLEDGE    OF    REDEMPTION.  201 

congratulate  the  shepherds  on  that  night  when  the 
heavens  resounded  with  Christ's  natal  anthem.  The 
\idings  which  he  bore  were  indeed  glad  tidings,  and 
to  all  people:  tidings  of  justice  vindicated,  of  heav- 
en reconciled,  and  of  sin  forgiven.  Oh,  how  the 
moral  night  brightened  when  the  Star  of  Bethlehem 
broke  upon  it !  Since  which,  this  earth  has  been  ad- 
vancing with  every  revolution  towards  the  dawn  oi 
a  more  effulgent  day :  this  earth,  comparatively  in- 
significant in  its  ^physical  dimensions,  but  great  in 
its  moral  consequence,  as  being  the  centre  of  a  glori- 
ous plan  of  redemption,  and  distinguished  among  the 
planets  as  the  theatre  of  God's  loving  kindness  and 
the  birthplace  of  his  Son. 

It  is  the  knowledge  of  this  system  of  redemption, 
in  which  such  mighty  interests  are  concentred,  such 
conflicting  claims  harmonized,  such  matchless  glories 
brought  to  light :  it  is  the  knowledge  of  this  system, 
and  of  God  in  Christ  acting  by  it,  that  sinks  and  de- 
grades all  other  knowledge,  and  becomes  itself  ex- 
clusively the  sinner's  ground  of  hope  and  cause  of 
glorying.  Even  Paul,  brought  up  at  the  feet  of  Ga- 
maliel, and  deeply  instructed  in  the  learning  of  the 
Rabbins,  counted  his  attainments  but  loss  for  the  ex- 
cellency of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  his  Lord. 

And  how  is  it  with  you  1  You  have  been  study- 
ing the  works  of  God  and  the  Providence  of  God. 
You  have  been  exercising  your  intellectual  powers 
in  the  analysis  of  matter  and  of  mind.  With  what 
success  have  you  done  this  1  Among  all  the  rela- 
tions you  have  discovered  and  traced,  have  you  yet 
discovered  and  traced  that  great  moral  relation  which 

Q 


202  god's  loving  kindness. 

binds  you  to  your  Creator's  throne ;  which  makes 
allegiance  obligatory  ;  which  makes  sin  heinous,  and 
hell  just  ?  While  you  have  been  solving  the  body  in 
the  crucible,  or  gazing  on  the  firmament  through  the 
telescope,  has  the  conviction  fastened  upon  your 
hearts  that,  as  the  sovereign  of  the  universe,  God 
deserves  the  homage  of  the  moral  beings  who  inhab- 
it it ;  and  that,  as  being  rebels  against  him,  your  dam- 
nation has  slumbered  only  because  He  exerciseth 
loving  kindness,  as  well  as  judgment  and  righteous- 
ness, on  the  earth  ] 

Of  this  loving  kindness  of  God,  what  has  been 
your  own  individual  experience  ?  I  speak  not  now 
of  your  creation,  or  of  the  protection  and  defence 
you  have  found  in  his  Providence.  I  speak  not  of 
the  preservations  of  infancy  ;  of  your  recoveries  from 
sickness ;  your  rescues  from  danger ;  your  hair- 
breadth escapes  during  so  many  years,  and  in  the 
midst  of  such  mighty  desolations  :  desolations  which 
have  already  swept  away  more  than  half  the  human 
beings  who  were  on  the  earth  when  you  began  to 
exist ;  while  you,  surrounded  on  every  side  by  the 
remains  of  the  dead,  and  walking  among  their  sep- 
ulchres, yet  continue  companions  of  the  living  and 
monuments  of  sparing  mercy.  I  speak  not  now  of 
these  things  ;  but  I  speak  of  that  loving  kindness  of 
God,  by  which  the  soul  of  a  sinner  is  regenerated 
and  redeemed. 

You  are  each  of  you  acquainted  with  at  least  one 
wanderer  from  virtue,  one  rebel  against  God.  What 
do  you  know  of  grace  having  followed  that  wander- 
er, and  what  of  his  submission  and  return  ?     What 


RIGHT    EDUCATION.  203 

reception  did  he  meet  with,  and  was  it  a  father's 
welcome  that  he  received  ?  In  one  word,  have  you, 
who  have  heard  so  many  lectures  and  studied  so 
many  sciences,  have  you  yet  acquired  that  saving 
knowledge  by  which  you  are  enabled  more  and 
more  to  die  unto  sin  and  live  unto  righteousness? 
Do  you  feel  in  your  souls  the  hope  of  sin  forgiven, 
and  do  you  find  there  the  evidences  of  renewing 
mercy]  Has  God  shed  abroad  his  love  in  your 
hearts,  restraining  your  appetites,  subduing  your 
passions,  purifying  your  desires,  elevating  your  af- 
fections, and  carrying  forward,  by  the  indwelling  in- 
fluences of  his  spirit,  a  work  of  sanctification  so 
progressive,  so  holy,  so  tinctured  with  the  temper 
and  the  humility  of  heaven,  that  you  dare  to  hope 
He  purposes  you  shall  enter  it.  If  so,  your  educa- 
tion, though  not  complete,  has  been  begun  aright. 
Its  elements  are  pure  and  durable.  You  have  laid 
your  foundation  deep  and  broad,  and  you  may  build 
upon  it  a  superstructure  which  no  shock  shall  over- 
throw, and  which  shall  rise  in  those  heavens  where 
no  telescope  can  reach. 

But  if  you  have  not  acquired  this  knowledge, 
with  all  your  boasted  attainments  you  are  fools,  and 
the  day  of  judgment  and  the  bar  of  God  will  prove 
you  so.  Yours  will  be  no  common  destiny,  and 
you  are  even  now  weaving  its  fearful  web.  As 
there  are  degrees  in  guilt,  so  there  will  be  degrees 
in  retribution.  The  servant  who  knows  his  mas- 
ter's will  and  does  it  not,  deserves  to  be  beaten  with 
many  stripes.  It  were  better  to  sink  into  perdition 
from  the  cities  of  the  plain  than  from  the  hills  of 


204    HEAVEN  REPLETE  WITH  BEAUTY. 

Zion ;  and  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  will  have  less  to 
answer  for  in  the  day  of  judgment  than  Chorazin  and 
Belhsaida  :  nor  only  than  Chorazin  and  Bethsaida. 

To  be  driven  from  the  halls  of  science  to  the 
prison  of  demons  is  to  be  doubly  damned.  Ah! 
how  many  sad  associations,  how  many  agonizing 
contrasts  will  rush  upon  the  mind  of  the  lettered 
reprobate,  doomed  to  the  confinement  of  convicts 
and  the  companionship  of  the  finally  impenitent ! 

Accustomed  to  all  that  is  tasteful  in  art,  or  sub- 
lime and  picturesque  in  nature,  how  will  he  endure 
the  privations  and  the  disorder  of  that  abode  of  hor- 
ror which  light  never  visits,  and  where  salvation 
never  comes.  In  hell  there  are  no  temples  of  sci- 
ence any  more  than  of  devotion,  no  walks  of  con- 
templation or  fields  of  verdure ;  no  Ida,  or  Parnas- 
sus, or  Vale  of  Tempe.  All  is  dark  and  sombrous, 
as  well  as  impious  and  guilty ;  and  the  smoke  of 
torments  endless  overhang  that  starless  firmament, 
across  which  no  healthful  planet  moves,  no  bow  of 
promise  stretches. 

It  is  in  other  and  holier  regions  where  taste  as 
well  as  devotion  finds  its  object  and  receives  its 
consummation.  Heaven  is  as  replete  with  beauty 
as  it  is  secure  from  evil.  There  is  the  tree  of  life, 
and  there  the  river  of  salvation.  There  the  cher- 
ubim chant  their  pseans,  and  the  harps  of  angels  give 
forth  their  notes  of  melody.  There  God  for  ever 
reigns,  seen  in  the  light  of  his  own  uncreated  perfec- 
tions, and  filling  the  realms  of  paradise  with  his  pe- 
culiar glory.  There  his  redeemed  children  obey 
and  worship  Him.     At  home  in  every  province  of 


INVOCATION.  205 

their  Heavenly  Father's  empire,  swiftly  and  securely 
they  fly  from  world  to  world,  to  bear  his  messages, 
to  admire  his  wonders,  and  adore  his  majesty. 
Ah !  who  would  not  inherit  heaven !  Who  does 
not  shrink  appalled  at  the  thought  of  hell ! 

Oh!  if  a  guardian's  fondness,  if  a  father's  love 
could  move  you,  how  would  I  pour  oui  my  full  heart 
in  expostulation  and  entreaty.  But  expostulation 
and  entreaty  fall  powerless  on  souls  which  grace 
has  never  quickened.  Oh !  thou  Maker  of  these 
immortal  beings,  guide  them  to  the  knowledge  of 
thyself,  and  bring  them  to  thy  kingdom,  and  to  thy 
"^ame  shall  be  the  glory. 


206    RELATIONS    AMONG   CREATED    BEINGS. 


XII. 

[Absolute  Independence  predicable  only  of  God. — The  Relations 
between  Parents  and  Children. — A  loolish  Son  a  Grief  to  his 
Father. — Sin  the  greatest  of  all  Folly. — The  Sinner's  Charac- 
ter and  Course  described. — The  Effects  of  Sm. — Children 
growing  up  in  Sin. — The  Prodigal  Son. — The  Anguish  occa- 
sioned to  Parents  by  dissolute  Children. — Their  Affliction  in 
leaving  such  Children  behind  them.— Their  Hopelessness 
in  the  Death  of  such  Children. — David  and  Absalom. — The 
Petition  of  Dives.— Future  State  of  the  Wicked. — Close  of 
the  Argument.] 

Absolute  independence  exists  not  except  in  God. 
Through  the  whole  line  of  created  intelligences,  be- 
ing acts  reciprocally  upon  being.  Between  the  in- 
dividuals of  different  races  the  influence  of  this  action 
is  felt.  Not  the  angels  themselves  are  unafl^ected 
by  those  changes  that  aflfect  the  destinies  of  rnen. 
There  is  joy  in  Heaven  over  the  repentant  sinner 
on  earth.  This  action  increases  as  the  relation  be- 
tween beings  becomes  more  intimate.  But  no  re- 
lation is  more  intimate  than  that  which  subsists  be- 
tween the  parent  and  the  child ;  none  more  indis- 
soluble, and,  of  course,  none  more  fruitful  in  pleas- 
ures and  in  pains. 

Of  this,  Solomon,  that  sagacious  observer  of  hu- 
man society,  was  duly  sensible.  Taught  both  by 
experience  and  observation,  he  asserts  not  only 
that  a  wise  son  makclli  a  glad  father,  but  that  a 
foolish  son  is  a  grief  to  his  father  and  bitterness  to 
her  that  bare  him. 

It  is  not  the  folly  of  idiocy,  however,  but  the  folly 


IDIOCY.  207 

of  sm,  to  which  the  wise  man  here  alludes.  God 
may,  and  in  his  inscrutable  wisdom  sonACtimes  does 
withhold  mtelligence  from  children  ;  or,  having  be- 
stowed  it,  he  suffers  it  to  be  impaired  by  disease  or 
disaster,  and,  it  may  be,  even  to  be  utterly  destroyed. 
A  human  being  destitute  of  intellect  is,  indeed,  a 
pitiable  spectacle,  and  doubly  so  in  the  eye  of  an 
affectionate  and  anxious  parent.  But  even  in  such 
an  eye  it  is  not  the  most  pitiable  ^spectacle.  The 
sight  of  it  occasions  sorrow,  it  is  true,  but  not  tlie 
most  poignant  soitow  ;  not  sorrow  inconsolable,  be- 
cause, with  reference  to  eternity,  it  is  not  sorrow 
without  hope. 

Death,  which  crumbles  down  the  body,  at  best 
a  prison,  may  remove  the  veil  that  has  so  long  ob- 
scured the  vision  of  the  mental  eye,  and  pour  upon 
the  idiot's  soul,  as  it  escapes  from  the  confinement 
of  material  organs,  the  radiance  of  intellectual  day. 
And  even  though  it  should  be  otherwise ;  though 
death  should  bring  no  relief,  and  the  idiot  in  eternity 
should  be  an  idiot  still,  neither  the  parent  nor  the 
child  would  be  responsible  ;  neither  would  feel  com 
punction,  neither  suffer  reproach. 

Idiocy  is  the  act  of  God.  It  displays  his  sov- 
ereignty who  in  a  thousand  ways  teaches  us  that 
He  is  the  potter  and  we  the  clay ;  clay  which  He 
moulds  at  pleasure,  and  for  his  own  glory,  into  ves- 
sels of  honour  or  of  dishonour. 
#  The  withered  intellect  of  an  immortal  being  is, 
indeed,  a  mystery  which  reason  cannot  comprehend, 
and  which  can  be  solved  by  faith  even  only  by 
referring  it  to  that  awful  Being  who  sometimes 
pleases  to  cover  himself  and  his  ways  with  dark- 


208  SIN    THE    HIGHEST   FOLLY. 

Dess  from  the  scrutiny  of  man.  Providence,  as 
well  as  creation,  has  its  shades;  but  in  both  alike 
they  are  only  shades,  which  relieve  the  picture  of 
good,  and  soften  the  blaze  of  mercy. 

It  is  not,  however,  with  foolishness  as  opposed 
to  intelligence,  but  as  opposed  to  virtue,  that  we  are 
at  present  concerned.  The  folly  of  sin  is  a  folly 
which  transcends  all  other  folly,  and  wrings  into  the 
cup  of  parental  misery  that  wormwood  which  no  in- 
gredient sweetens  or  can  sweeten. 

This  is  not  a  constrained  interpretation  of  the 
words  we  are  now  considering.  Folli/  and  ivisdom 
are  expressive  of  sm  and  righteousness  on  numerous 
pages  of  the  sacred  volume.  Says  Job,  Behold  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  that  is  wisdom;  and  to  depart 
from  evil  is  understanding :  says  David,  The  fear 
of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  ivisdom :  a  good 
understanding  have  all  they  that  do  his  command- 
ments :  says  Solomon,  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the 
beginning  of  knowledge  ;  but  fools  despise  hnowU 
edge  and  instruction.  It  was  the  fool  whose  soul 
was  required  of  him  in  the  midst  of  his  revelry ;  it 
was  the  fool  who  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God. 

Nor  is  this  a  perversion  of  language.  Sin  is  the 
most  consummate  folly,  and  the  sinner  is  pre-emi- 
nently a  fool.  Not  the  idiot,  slavering  out  his  non- 
sense, furnishes  so  foul  and  disgusting  a  spectacle  of 
folly  as  the  sinner  muttering  his  imprecations,  hymn- 
ing in  secret  his  obscenities,  or  belching  forth  in  pub'Ji 
lie  his  deep-toned  blasphemies.  What !  shall  that 
man  be  deemed  rational  who  insults  the  God  above 
him,  who  resists  the  conscience  within  him,  who 


THE    SINNER    A    FOOL.  209 

prostitutes  the  meicies  around  him,  and,  outraging 
reason,  outraging  faith,  outraging  decency,  breaks 
down  before  him  all  the  barriers  of  truth,  of  justice, 
of  temperance,  of  chastity,  and  transgresses  at  every 
step  of  his  bewildered  course  those  eternal  rules  of 
action  which  are  sanctioned  by  wisdom,  and  which 
constitute  the  boundary  between  sanity  and  mad- 
ness ?  Shall  the  man  who  does  this — who  does 
this  without  relenting,  and  in  spite  of  admonition,  in 
spite  of  warning,  in  spite  of  entreaty — the  man  who 
does  this,  not  casually,  but  habitually,  and  who  per- 
sists in  doing  this  from  his  cradle  to  his  sepulchre — 
shall  this  man  be  deemed  rational  1  Ah !  beloved 
pupils,  to  drink  poison  one's  self,  or  to  cast  among 
others  firebrands,  arrows,  and  death,  and  to  say, 
"  Am  I  not  in  sport  1"  are  not  indications  of  sanity, 
but  of  madness.  Yet  such  are  the  indications  which 
the  life  of  the  sinner  furnishes. 

True,  the  sinner  may  be  endued  with  natural  tal- 
ents. So  may  the  maniac.  Sallies  of  wit,  flights 
of  fancy  are  occasionally  discoverable :  even  the 
fire  of  imagination  sometimes  sparkles,  and  corus- 
cations of  genius  glare  amid  that  ungoverned  and 
ungovernable  train  of  thought  which  he  pours  forth 
during  the  paroxysms  of  his  phrensy.  Yet  the  ma- 
niac is  not  a  reasonable  creature :  so  neither,  with 
all  his  love  of  arts,  with  all  his  talents  for  excelling, 
is  the  sinner. 

The  wicked  man,  accomplished  and  erudite  as  he 

may  be,  is,  notwithstanding,  a  deranged  man.      That 

intellectual  order  which  God  ordained  is  subverted, 

and  all  within  is  anarchy.     Reason  is  prostrate,  lust 

R 


210  RECKLESSNESS    OF    THE     SINNER. 

predominant,  and  conflicting  passions  agitate  his 
bosonrj,  and  wring  and  rend  his  soul.  Like  the  ship 
dismantled  and  rudderless,  and  at  the  mercy  of  the 
elements,  he  is  driven  about  by  every  wind  that 
blows,  and  turned  from  his  course  by  every  surge 
that  rises.  What  port  he  shall  arrive  at,  or  on  what 
shoals  be  wrecked,  he  neither  cares  nor  calculates. 
He  takes  no  observations,  he  keeps  no  reckoning, 
he  shapes  no  course  :  neither  chart  nor  compass  is 
regarded  :  he  is  impelled  by  accidental  causes  and 
in  opposite  directions,  and  his  whole  voyage  is  a 
voyage  at  random. 

This  is  not  exaggeration.  Whatever  else  the 
sinner  possesses,  he  possesses  no  discretion :  at 
least  he  exercises  none.  He  acts  according  to  no 
fixed  rules,  he  lives  in  conformity  to  no  established 
plan.  His  intermissions  in  excess,  his  changes 
from  crime  to  crime,  are  wholly  capricious  ;  so  that 
whether  he  becomes  less  profligate  or  more  so,  the 
act  is  not  deliberative,  but,  as  it  were,  instinctive. 
And,  even  when  he  seems  to  deliberate,  the  means 
he  chooses  are  mischosen,  and  have  no  relation  to 
the  end  he  aims  at.  All  is*  wild,  and  fanciful,  and 
erratic. 

Neither  is  this  exaggeration.  If  you  think  so, 
mark  the  sinner  in  his  bewildered  and  delirious 
course.  His  fortune  is  squandered,  his  constitution 
destroyed,  his  honour  sullied,  his  conscience  defi- 
led, and  his  soul  sacrificed — heaven  sacrificed — im- 
mortality sacrificed.  And  for  what  1  For  nothing. 
He  deliberates  not,  he  makes  no  calculation ;  but  is 
hurried  on,  as  if  lashed  by  demons,  from  play  to 


MATERNAL    TENDERNESS  211 

gambling,  from  gambling  to  the  dramshop,  from  the 
dramshop  to  (he  brothel,  trom  the  brutnel  to  the  mad- 
house or  the  prison,  and  from  thence  to — hell. 

Again  I  ask,  can  such  a  man  be  deemed  rational? 
No,  he  cannot.  As  we  have  said,  sin  is  the  most 
consummate  folly,  and  the  sinner  pre-eminently  a 
fool.  With  truth  and  reason,  therefore,  Solomon 
calls  a  wicked  son  a  fpolish  son  ;  and  with  no  less 
truth  and  reason,  he  affirms  of  such  a  son  that 

UK  IS  A  GRIEF  UNTO  HIS  FATHER,  AND  BITTER- 
NESS   TO    HER    THAT    BARE    HIM. 

Mark  these  emphatic  words.  Solomon  does  not 
say  that  a  foolish  son  is  grievous,  but  a  grief  unto 
his  father :  not  bitter,  but  kitterness — the  very  gall 
itself — to  whom?   to  her  that  bare  him. 

Who  would  have  expected  such  an  issue  ?  Be- 
hold with  what  anguish  the  mother  bears,  and  with 
what  constancy  she  nurtures  that  infant  at  her  bo- 
som. All  her  other  cares  are  laid  aside,  all  her  oth- 
er pleasures  are  forgotten.  She  tends  and  caresses 
it  by  day,  and  by  night  she  watches  the  slumber  of 
its  pillow.  She  is  ever  vigilant,  ever  active,  and 
never  weary  in  performing  the  humblest  and  most 
tender  offices  in  behalf  of  that  little  being. 

So  strong  is  the  niaternal  instinct,  so  true,  so 
steady  to  its  object,  that,  when  the  prophet  sought 
an  image  to  illustrate  the  ever-wakeful  and  never- 
failing  faithfulness  of  God,  among  all  that  assem- 
blage of  related  beings  which  surrounded  Him,  no 
ties  were  found  so  tender,  so  indissoluble  as  those 
which  bind  a  mother  to  the  tenant  of  her  cradle. 
Hence  he  significantly  asks,  as  being  the  least  prob- 


212         A  mother's  wretchedness. 

able  of  all  things,  and  because  he  could  seize  on  no 
stronger  instance  of  kindness  and  of  constancy, 
Can  a  mother  forsake  her  sucking  child  ? 

And  can  it  be  possible  that  this  child,  whom,  be- 
fore its  countenance  has  been  lit  up  with  intelligence 
and  smiles — even  from  the  first  moment  of  its  being 
the  mother  forgets  not — can  it  be  possible  that  this 
child,  now  the  source  of  so  much  happiness,  the  ob- 
ject of  so  many  and  such  delightful  hopes,  wilf 
hereafter  become  the  source  of  the  most  aggravated 
and  unmitigated  misery  ? 

Yes,  even  this  is  possible.  Sin  subverts  the  or- 
der and  destroys  the  harmony  of  all  God's  works. 
It  poisons  the  very  fountains  of  felicity,  and  causes 
pain  to  spring  from  the  soil  where  pleasure  alone 
might  be  expected  to  grow.  It  sunders  the  ties  of 
friendship,  and  renders  the  ties  of  nature  even,  which 
it  cannot  sunder,  galling  and  corrosive  :  so  that  the 
very  bond  which  binds  a  mother  to  her  offspring 
binds  her  to  the  object  of  her  misery :  a  misery 
which  the  partner  of  her  bosom  shares,  but  without 
alleviating ;  for  it  is  a  misery  which  admits  not  of 
consolation,  and  which  division  even  lessens  not. 
Thus  it  may  be  said  emphatically  that  a  foolish 
son  is  a  grief  unto  his  father,  and  bitterness  to  her 
that  bare  him  ;  for  he  is  so  in  life,  he   is  so 

IN    DEATH NAY,    EVEN    AFTER    DEATH IN    THAT 

ONLY  WORLD  WHERE  POSTHUMOUS  MISERY  IS  POS- 
SIBLE. 

In  Life.  Of  all  the  wounds  inflicted  by  one 
human  being  on  the  peace  of  another,  none  are  so 
deep,  so  lasting,  so  incurable  as  those  which  sin  in-t 


A  PIOUS  mother's  sorrow.    213 

flicts  :  nor  is  there  any  object  so  noxious,  so  hateful, 
as  the  agent  who  inflicts  those  wounds.  Other 
causes  may  deface  the  beauty  of  the  body,  but  sin 
deforms  the  very  soul  of  man.  It  renders  even 
that  deathless  inhabitant  of  the  bosom  vile  and  pol- 
luted, as  well  as  guilty  and  hideous.  Not  the  most 
odious  object  that  meets  the  eye  is  so  offensive  a 
spectacle  as  the  soul  of  man  in  ruins  :  the  soul  de- 
graded by  appetite,  defiled  by  lust,  and  infected 
throughout  with  the  leprosy  of  sin.  Such  a  spec- 
tacle, so  loathsome  even  to  the  eye  of  strangers, 
what  must  it  be  to  the  eye  of  kindred  :  what,  espe- 
cially, to  the  eye  of  virtuous  parental  affection ! 

With  what  emotions  must  a  father,  a  mother,  look 
upon  such  a  child,  upon  such  children  :  children,  the 
objects  of  their  tenderest  love,  and  of  their  earliest 
and  most  anxious  care  !  Children  whom  they  have 
warned  and  counselled  by  day,  and  borne  upon  their 
hearts  to  the  throne  of  grace  by  night ! 

With  what  emotions  must  those  parents,  who  them- 
selves feel  an  habitual  horror  of  sin  and  dread  of 
the  displeasure  of  the  Almighty — with  what  emotions 
must  such  parents  witness  the  broils,  the  recrimina- 
tions, and  contentions  of  children,  whom  they  have 
taught  so  long,  and  with  such  assiduous  care,  to  live 
in  amity!  Ah!  with  what  dissonance  must  oaths 
and  imprecations  grate  on  the  parental  ear,  from  lips 
whose  first  accents  were  prayer  and  praise  ;  but 
whose  later  and  hoarser  tones  have  filled  even  the 
hallowed  retirement  of  the  domestic  circle  with  the 
clamour  and  the  ribaldry  of  demons  ! 

To  see  the  members  of  a  family  ripen  in  sin  as 


214  A  PIOUS  mother's  sorrow. 

they  ripen  in  years  ;  to  see  them  trampling  on  au- 
thority, breaking  through  restraints,  and,  finally,  tear- 
ing themselves  away  from  those  withered  arms  that 
would  have  still  led  them  back  to  virtue  ;  or,  if  this 
were  quite  impossible,  would  at  least  have  kept  them 
for  a  season  from  perdition ;  to  see  them  tearing  them- 
selves away  from  those  arms,  and,  in  the  spirit  of 
fiends,  entering  on  the  world  only  to  corrupt  and  curse 
it — mere  outcasts,  forsaken  of  God,  despised  of  men; 
to  see  this  downward  course,  this  surrender  of  prerog- 
atives, this  sacrifice  of  prospects,  this  perversion  of 
talents,  this  prostitution  of  reason  ;  to  see  this  in  the 
person  of  a  child,  already  diseased  in  body  as  well  as 
in  mind,  and  literally  corrupting  in  anticipation  for  the 
sepulchre  ;  to  see  this  as  a  parent  sees  it,  especial 
ly  as  a  mother  sees  it,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  re- 
member, and  to  be  obliged  to  remember,  that  the  ob- 
ject of  all  this  guilt,  and  misery,  and  disgust,  and 
pollution,  is  hone  of  her  bone  and  flesh  of  her  flesh — 
oh  !  this,  this  it  is  that  drains  from  the  very  worm- 
wood its  dregs,  and  gives  to  the  bitterness  of  mater- 
nal misery  its  consummation.  The  spirit  of  a  man 
may  sustain  his  inflrmities  ;  but  a  wounded  spirit 
who  can  bear  ? 

When  Brutus  raised  his  treacherous  arm  in  the 
Roman  senate-chamber,  the  heart  of  Csesar  sunk ; 
and,  concealing  his  face  beneath  his  mantle,  without 
resistance  he  received  in  his  bosom  the  parricidal  stab, 
and  fell.  And  yet  Brutus  owed  not  Ccesar  so  much 
as  children  owe  their  parents ;  nor  did  that  parrici- 
dal stab  of  his  inflict  so  deep  or  so  unnatural  a  wound 
on  Caesar's  bosom  as  children  by  their  crimes  in- 
flict on  the  bosoms  of  their  parents. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON.  215 

Eli's  was  not  the  only  priesthood  that  has  been 
dishonoured,  nor  were  his  the  only  gray  locks  which 
have  been  brough-t,  by  the  profligacy  of  sons,  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave. 

You  remember  that  prodigal,  whose  crimes  and 
whose  repentance  have  been  rendered  memorable  by 
the  record  which  Jesus  Christ  has  left  of  them. 
What,  think  you,  was  the  father's  anguish,  when  this 
his  younger  son,  impatient  of  restraint  and  incapa- 
ble of  submission,  demanded  his  portion,  and,  desert- 
ing his  home,  commenced  his  rash  and  ominous  ca- 
reer 1  What  was  his  anguish  when  he  saw  this  son, 
gradually  receding  from  virtue,  changing  the  habits 
of  his  childhood,  and,  finally,  relinquishing  both  char- 
acter and  conscience,  giving  himself  up  wholly  to 
debauchery  ?  What  when  he  saw  him  deserted  by 
the  good,  a  companion  of  the  vile,  surrounded  by 
harlots,  and  squandering  even  the  last  remnant  of  his 
patrimonial  inheritance  in  wanton  and  riotous  living  ? 
What,  finally,  must  have  been  his  anguish,  when  he 
saw  that  son,  once  perhaps  so  amiable,  so  respecta- 
ble, so  promising,  and  still  to  a  parent's  aching  heart 
so  dear — what  must  have  been  his  anguish  when 
he  saw  that  son,  deserted  and  despised  even  by  the 
wretches  who  had  feasted  on  his  bounty,  at  length 
reduced  to  beggary,  a  keeper  of  swine,  and  driven 
by  hunger  to  feed,  in  common  with  the  herd  he  tend- 
ed, upon  husks  ?  Let  that  burst  of  parental  joy 
which  welcomed  the  first  hom&ward  movement  of 
this  repentant,  returning  prodigal,  answer  our  inter- 
rogation. 

Vile,  and  wretched,  and  covered  with  rags  as  he 


216  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

was,  his  exulting  father  waited  not  for  his  arrival ; 
but,  flying  to  meet  him,  in  ecstasy  he  fell  upon  his 
neck  and  kissed  him.  The  best  robe  was  instantly 
ordered  to  be  put  upon  him,  shoes  upon  his  feet,  and 
a  ring  upon  his  finger.  The  fatted  calf  was  killed ; 
the  festive  board  was  spread  ;  and  the  note  of  joy 
was  again  heard  within  the  so  long  sad  and  silent 
mansion. 

It  was  meet  it  should  be  so.  Why  1  A  father's 
heart  declares  the  reason  for  this  domestic  jubilee  : 
Because  this  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again ; 
he  was  lost  and  is  found.  To  conciliate  the  elder 
brother  returning  from  the  field,  and  offended  at  the 
welcome  the  prodigal  had  received,  the  same  reason 
was  repeated  :  This  thy  brother  was  dead  and  is 
alive  again  ;  he  was  lost  and  is  found.  It  was  mce/, 
therefore,  that  we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad. 

It  was,  indeed,  meet  they  should  do  this  :  nevei 
was  festivity  more  rational.  The  very  angels  sym- 
pathized in  it  ;  for  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  ont 
sinner  that  repenteth^  more  than  over  ninety  and  nine 
just  persons  that  need  no  repentance. 

Ye  parents,  ye  afflicted  parents,  whose  hard  lot  i( 
is  to  have  ungodly  children  ;  who  in  the  bitterness 
of  your  souls  have  said,  and  still  say,  in  the  closet 
and  at  the  altar,  oh!  that  God  would  recall  another 
wanderer,  and  cause  that  abandoned  son  of  mine  to 
relent  and  to  return  ;  parents  whom  not  death,  but 
sin — more  cruel  than  death — has  robbed  at  once  of 
your  peace  and  of  your  children,  what  solace  can  I  of-  ^ 
fer  you  ?  what  words  of  consolation  address  to  you  ? 
None  :  for  none  would  be  availing.     These  are  mis- 


PARENTS  LEAVING  PROFLIGATE  CHILDREN.  217 

eries  which  solace  reaches  not,  and  which  words  of 
consolation  only  aggravate.  Ah !  who  can  comfort 
those  whom  the  God  of  heaven  has  not  comforted  1 
Sorrow  is  yours  by  His  appointment ;  and  to  llim, 
therefore,  you  can  only  lift  up  your  hearts  and  weep. 
Peradventure,  even  as  respects  that  prodigal  of  thine, 
His  mercies  are  not  quite  gone,  and  His  wrath  will 
not  burn  for  ever. 

Pity,  oh  God !  we  beseech  thee,  our  guilty  and 
erring  children.  Pour  out  thy  spirit  upon  them, 
and  they  shall  be  renewed.  Turn  them  from  the 
error  of  their  ways,  and  they  shall  be  turned. 

But  if  a  foolish  son  be  a  grief  to  his  father,  and 
bitterness  to  her  that  bare  him  in  life,  how  much 
more  is  he  a  grief  and  bitterness  to  them  in  death : 
and  this,  whether  respect  be  had  to  the  death  of  the 
parent  or  of  the  child. 

The  death  of  the  parent. — Can  the  mind  of  man 
conceive  a  thought  (except,  indeed,  it  be  the  dread 
of  damnation  for  one's  own  sins) — can  the  mind  of 
man  conceive  a  thought  so  full  of  terror,  of  anguish, 
of  all  that  can  distract  the  soul,  as  the  thought  of 
dying,  and  leaving  behind  a  profligate  and  ungodly 
child — a  family  of  profligate  and  ungodly  children  ; 
children  with  whom  all  the  means  of  grace  have 
proved  unavailing  ;  children  whom  no  kindness 
could  conciliate,  no  counsel  influence,  no  tears  soften, 
no  motives  move  ;  but  who,  in  despite  of  parental 
love  and  parental  virtue,  have  remained  obstinately 
impenitent ;  and  who  are  now  about  to  be  deprived 
of  those  abused  mercies  they  have  hitherto  enjoyed, 
and  to  be  left  orphans  as  well  as  profligates  in  the 


218   PARENTS  LEAVING  PROFLIGATE  CHILDREN 

midst  of  an  insidious  and  treacherous  world  ?  I 
repeat  it,  what  other  thought  is  there,  except  it  be 
the  dread  of  one's  damnation,  which  can  plant  so 
sharp  a  sting  in  a  parent's  bosom,  or  press  upon  his 
heart  in  death  with  such  a  tremendous  weight? 

To  be  surrounded,  when  dying,  by  impiety  and 
impenitence,  by  intemperance  and  debauchery ;  to 
be  deprived  even  of  the  hope  of  being  forgotten 
when  dead  ;  to  foresee  that  one  is  to  be  remember- 
ed only  through  the  profligacy  of  children  who  are 
left  behind,  to  nurture,  it  may  be,  other  children 
still  more  profligate  than  themselves,  and  who,  in 
their  turn,  shall  nurture  others,  thus  transmitting  guilt 
and  misery  through  a  race  of  immortal  beings,  and 
sealing  reprobation,  perhaps,  to  a  remote  posterity — 
what  ideas  are  these !  ideas  rendered  still  more 
dreadful  by  the  remembrance  of  these  tremendous 
words  :  For  I,  the  Lord  thy  God,  am  a  jeal- 
ous God,  visiting  the  iniquities  of  the  fa- 
thers UPON  the  CHILDREN,  UNTO  THE  THIRD  AND 
FOURTH   GENERATION  OF  THEM   THAT   HATE   ME  ! 

Miserable  comforters  indeed  are  wicked  children 
around  the  pillow  of  a  dying  parent.  What  an  af- 
flicting prospect  to  the  eye  !  What  sad  forebodings 
does  it  press  upon  the  heart !  My  God,  deliver  me 
in  that  hour  from  the  bitterness  of  such  a  scene. 
Oh !  grant  that  the  hand  of  filial  piety  may  wipe 
the  cold  dew  from  this  forehead  and  close  these 
eyelids.  Then  shall  thy  servant  die  in  peace,  when 
his  eye  shall  have  seen  thy  salvation  in  the  person 
of  his  children. 

The  death  of  the  child, — Ah  '•  how  hard,   how 


DAVID    AND    ABSALOM.  219 

very  hard  to  a  pious  parent  to  give  up  for  ever  an 
unrepenting  and  incorrigible  child.  David  had  such 
a  child  :  but  mark  how  he  loved  him  ;  even  after  he 
became  his  enemy,  how  he  loved  him. 

Though  he  had  ahenated  from  his  father  the  af- 
fections of  his  people,  wrested  from  his  hand  the 
sceptre,  and  seized  by  violence  on  his  throne,  Absa- 
lom was  still  unsatisfied.  With  the  ingratitude  of  a 
demon  he  pursued  that  father,  who,  bowed  with  age, 
fled  before  his  son  over  Kedron  into  the  wilderness, 
as  a  doe  flies  to  the  thicket  before  the  tiger.  Yet, 
even  in  this  exile  so  afflicting,  so  unnatural,  David, 
forgetful  of  himself,  remembered  only  Absalom,  and 
pitied  him.  Yes,  even  there  nature  asserted  her 
empire  in  the  heart  of  the  deposed  monarch ;  and 
the  compassion  of  a  father,  in  all  its  tenderness  and 
strength,  returned.  Gladly  would  he  have  stayed 
the  arm  of  retribution,  and  snatched  this  intended 
parricide  from  the  vengeance  he  deserved.  Thus, 
even  at  the  hazard  of  his  kingdom  and  his  life,  in 
opposition  to  himself,  he  interceded  for  the  traitor. 
All  were  strictly  charged,  for  the  father's  sake,  to 
spare  his  son,  though  in  arms  against  him.  To  the 
captains  of  Israel,  even  to  Abner,  Abishai,  and  Ittai, 
as  he  sent  them  forth  to  the  battle,  he  said.  Deal 
gently,  for  my  sake,  with  the  young  man ;  even  with 
Absalom, 

When  the  messenjjers,  Ahimaas  and  Cushi,  arri- 
ved in  succession  with  tidings  from  the  camp,  though 
his  crown  and  kingdom  were  suspended  on  the  issue, 
the  first  anxious  inquiry  which  David  addressed  to 
them  was  not,  has  Abner  been  victorious  1  but  is 


220  DAVID    AND    ABSALOM. 

the  young  man  Msalom  safe  ?  The  enemies  of  mj 
lord  the  king,  replied  Cushi,  the  enemies  of  my  lord 
the  king,  and  all  that  rise  up  against  thee  to  do  thee 
hurt,  be  as  that  young  man  is.  Not  the  tender  and 
flattering  terms  in  which  this  triumph  was  announced 
could  render  it  acceptable.  The  voice  of  Cushi, 
joyful  to  every  other  heart,  conveyed  no  joy  to  the 
sorrow-stricken  heart  of  David.  Far  from  it.  The 
king  loas  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the  chamber 
over  the  gate,  and  ivept  :  and  as  he  ivept^  thus  ht 
said.  Oh  !  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  Absa- 
lom !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  oh  Absalom, 
my  son,  my  son  ! 

Nor  is  David  the  only  father  who  has  felt  this 
sentiment,  and  spoken  this  language  beside  the  bier 
and  at  the  grave  of  his  son.  There  is  a  sorrow  far 
more  inconsolable  than  that  of  Rachel's,  who  filled 
ancient  Rama  with  her  lamentation,  and  who  refused 
to  be  comforted  ;  because  there  is  a  thought  far 
more  distressing,  even  to  a  mother's  heart,  than  the 
thought  that  her  infant  children  are  not.  The  wick- 
ed lives  of  children,  their  unforgiven  sins,  ah !  this 
it  is  that  robs  the  mourner  of  the  mourner's  conso- 
lation, and  changes,  even  in  the  maternal  hand,  the 
cup  of  death,  always  bitter,  into  bitterness  itself 

Ah  !  ye  unnatural  children  !  ye  murderers  of  your 
parent's  peace,  in  what  language  of  remonstrance 
shall  I  address  you  1  Alas  !  there  is  no  language  of 
remonstrance  of  power  to  reach  and  quicken  a  bosom 
dead  to  every  ingenuous  feeHng — dead  even  to  filial 
gratitude.  That  is  the  last  throb  felt  by  the  seared 
conscience  ;  the  last  sentiment  of  hopeful  omen  that 


PROFLIGATE    PARENTS.  221 

forsakes  the  indurating  heart.  But  remember,  scof- 
fer, though  dead  to  virtue,  you  are  not  dead  to  suf* 
fering.  From  the  habitation  of  your  mother,  made 
wretched  by  your  profligacy  ;  from  the  tomb  of  your 
father,  slain  by  your  ingratitude,  your  sins  cry  aloud 
to  heaven  against  you.  Forbearance  has  its  hmit ; 
God  is  just  as  well  as  merciful ;  and  wo  unto  that 
sinner  on  whom  at  once  rests  his  parents'  blood  and 
his  Maker's  malediction.  The  eye  that  mocketh  at 
his  father  and  despiseth  to  obey  his  mother,  the  ra' 
^ens  of  the  valley  shall  pick  it  out,  and  the  young 
eagles  shall  eat  it.  These  are  awful  words.  Let 
them  sink  into  thy  heart,  profligate  young  man  ;  thou 
rebel  at  once  against  nature  and  against  God. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression.  Not  even  the 
wickedness  of  parents  invalidates  the  truth  of  the 
position  we  have  been  attempting  to  illustrate  and 
enforce.  Profligate  as  your  father  or  mother  may 
be,  they  are  not  so  profligate  but  that  your  sins  will 
aggravate  their  misery.  Yes,  even  profligate  pa- 
rents wish  the  happiness  of  their  children.  In  theit 
hearts  so  obdurate,  there  is  still  one  cord  that  vi- 
brates in  unison  with  nature. 

But,  even  were  it  otherwise  ;  though  they  had  lost 
the  parental  instinct,  and  become  as  selfish  and  as 
reprobate  in  their  feelings  as  the  damned,  a  foolish 
son  would  still  be  a  grief  and  bitterness  to  them.  Sin 
mingles  its  poison  in  the  cup  of  the  wicked,  and 
carries  its  woes  into  their  families  as  well  as  into 
the  families  of  the  righteous.  A  wicked  son,  there- 
fore, even  to  wicked  parents,  must  be  a  grief  and 
bitterness.     He  must  be  so  in  life,  so  in  death  ; 


222  DIVES. 

and  so  after  death,  in  that  onli  wcrld  where 

POSTHUMOUS  SUFFERING    IS    POSSIBLE. 

When  Dives  hfted  up  his  eyes  in  torments,  and 
saw  Abraham  afar  off,  and  Lazarus  in  his  bo.-om, 
he  addressed  to  the  patriarch  two  petitions,  and  but 
two;  the  one  respecting  himself,  ihe  other  his  kin- 
dred. Sweheririg  beneath  his  Maker^s  wrath,  and 
finding  no  rest,  he  cried  and  said,  Father  Abraham^ 
have  mercy  07i  me ;  and  seiul  Lazarus  that  he  may 
dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water  and  cool  my  tongue ; 
for  I  am  tormented  in  this  flame.  This  denied  him, 
he  added,  I  pray  thee,  therefore,  father,  that  thou 
wouldst  send  him  to  my  father^ s  house  ;  for  I  have 
five  brethren ;  that  he  may  testify  unto  them,  less 
they  also  come  into  this  place  of  torment. 

Whether  this  petition  was  prompted  by  a  dread 
that  the  presence  of  his  brethren  would  aggravate  his 
misery,  or  whether  the  sympathies  between  kindred 
on  the  earth  find  place  in  hell,  is  not  material  to  in- 
quire. It  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  Dives  thus 
prayed.  And  be  it  remembered,  this  is  the  only 
form  of  prayer  we  have  any  knowledge  of  having 
ever  been  offered  up  in  those  regions  of  dark  despair 
which  mercy  never  visits,  and  to  which  dehverance 
never  comes.  Methinks  I  hear  the  same  mournful 
cry  repeated  in  behalf  of  children  by  every  ungodly 
parent  that  has  joined  Dives  in  his  abode  of  misery. 

Since  it  is  so — since  not  even  Lazarus  may  be 
permitted  to  administer  to  our  relief,  though  but  one 
drop  of  water,  oh !  that  it  were  granted  that  he 
might  go  to  yonder  world,  where  mercy  is  still  ad* 
missible ;  that  he  might  go  to  the  houses  we  once 


FUTURE    PUNISHMENTS.  223 

inhabited  ;  to  the  children  we  have  left — left,  cor- 
rupted by  our  counstil,  ensnarea  by  our  example — 
oh  !  that  it  were  granted  that  some  messenger  might 
be  sent  to  warn  them,  lest  they  should  also  come  to 
aggravate  our  doom  in  this  place  of  torment. 

Nor  is  it  strange  that  the  anticipated  dread  ol 
such  a  vengeance  should  extort,  even  from  damned 
spirits,  such  a  note  of  supplication.  For,  among  all 
the  forms  of  retribution  which  incensed  justice  has 
in  store  for  sinners,  what  damnation  is  there  so  doub- 
ly to  be  deprecated  as  the  meeting  of  a  parent  with 
a  child — in  hell !  Ah  !  what  mutual  curses  and  re- 
criminations will  be  exchanged  between  the  malig- 
nant, fiendlike  offspring,*  and  the  no  less  malignant 
and  fiendlike  author  of  his  being  and  his  misery  ; 
who,  having  inherited  on  earth  his  father's  crimes  and 
fortunes,  has  come  to  share  in  hell,  and  to  aggravate 
by  sharing,  the  torments  of  his  reprobation. 

Imagine  such  a  meeting.  Oh !  how  the  cavern 
deepens !  how  the  darkness  blackens !  while  from 
the  gulf  below  is  heard  a  groan  of  more,  more  deep- 
toned  misery.  But  I  forbear.  Let  the  veil  rest 
which  covers  a  scene  by  living  men  not  conceivable. 
As  yet,  thanks  to  Almighty  God,  we  know  not  its  ter- 
rors.    May  He  grant  that  we  shall  never  know  them. 

I  have  now  reached  the  consummation  of  my  ar- 
gument ;  and,  in  view  of  all  that  has  been  said,  are 
you,  who  have  heard  me,  willing  to  take,  with  a  life 
of  sin,  its  consequences  1  Art  thou  willing,  thou 
gowned  fool — thou  fool  even  from  the  halls  of  litera- 
ture and  from  the  vestibule  of  science — art  thou 
willing  to  sacrifice  at  once  thine  own  peace  and  the 


224  HEAVENLY    WISDOM. 

peace  of  those  whose  happiness  is  identified  with 
thine,  bone  as  thou  art  of  their  bone,  and  flesh  of 
their  flesh  ?  Are  ye  willing,  ye  profane  young  men, 
who,  with  all  your  learning,  have  yet  to  learn  that 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom — 
are  ye  willing  to  become  the  assassins  of  your  godly 
parents  on  the  earth,  or  the  executioners  of  eternal 
vengeance  on  your  ungodly  ones — in  hell  ] 

By  all  that  is  touching  in  a  parent's  misery — by  all 
that  is  dreadful  in  the  Almighty's  malediction — by  the 
terrors  of  the  hour  of  final  separation,  and  the  deep- 
er terrors  of  an  after-meeting  to  the  wicked,  doomed 
to  become,  and  to  continue  through  eternity,  tor- 
mentors of  each  other — I  adjure  you  to  renounce 
your  folly,  and,  ere  the  guardianship  of  the  spirit  is 
withdrawn  and  the  temple  of  mercy  shut,  betake 
yourselves  to  acquiring  that  heavenly  wisdom  which 
will  abide  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  be 
availing  in  the  day  of  judgment  and  at  the  bar  of 
God  :  a  wisdom  which  the  Academy  teaches  not, 
and  cannot  teach.  It  is  not  from  Socrates  or  Sen- 
eca that, we  learn  to  know  God  and  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  to  know  aright  is  life  eternal :  a  knowledge, 
in  comparison  with  which  the  learning  of  the  schools 
is  folly,  and  the  boastful  possessor  of  it,  untaught  in 
purer  doctrine  and  by  a  holier  teacher,  is,  and  will 
remain  throughout  eternity,  a  fool. 

Oh  God !  this  wisdom  from  above  is  thy  hallow- 
ing, hallowed  gift.  Bestow  it  on  these  youth  ere 
ihey  depart  from  around  thine  altar,  lest  they  return 
to  their  homes  the  harbingers  of  discord,  and  carry 
into  the  domestic  circle,  and  to  their  parents'  hearts 


GOD  S    BLESSING   INVOKED.  225 

that  deep  misery  for  which,  grace   apart,  there  is 
neither  antidote  nor  remedy. 

Hear  this  our  prayer  in  their  behalf.  Confirm 
the  wise  in  their  wisdom,  and  turn  the  heart  of  the 
fool  from  his  folly.  Do  this,  thou  Author  of  our 
being,  thou  Father  of  our  spirits  and  object  of  our 
hopes,  for  Christ's  sake,  and  to  thy  name  shall  be 
the  glory. 


226        THE   DEATH   OF   THE   RIGHTEOUS. 


XIII. 

[All  wish  to  Die  with  the  Assurance  of  Happiness  hereafter.— 
As  Youth  is  the  most  important,  it  is  also  the  most  danger- 
ous Period  of  Life. — Rehgion  only  can  guard  against  the 
Temptations  incident  to  this  Period. — The  Example  of  Jo- 
siah. — All  Men  mean  to  repent  of  their  Sins. — Danger  of 
delaying  Repentance — from  the  uncertainty  of  Life  and  of 
the  continued  possession  of  Reason— from  the  hardening  ef- 
fects of  Perseverance  in  Sin— from  being  left  to  a  Reprobate 
Mind.] 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my 
last  end  he  like  his,  exclaimed  the  son  of  Beor, 
when  summoned  by  Balak  to  curse  the  Israel  of 
God.  Lives  there  a  man  who  does  not  sympathize 
in  this  sentiment  of  the  prophet,  or  who  would  not 
appropriate  his  language  ? 

Could  we  travel  round  our  world,  and,  visiting  all 
the  dwelling-places  of  its  guilty  inhabitants,  collect 
their  various  opinions,  adverse  as  we  might  find 
them  on  other  questions,  on  this  they  would  be  found 
to  harmonize  in  one  common  and  fraternal  senti- 
ment. Let  us  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 
our  last  end  be  like  his. 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous  is  articula- 
ted by  the  tongue  of  the  miser,  as  he  appropriates 
the  dower  of  the  widow,  and  throws  his  remorseless 
fangs  over  the  orphan's  patrimony. 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous  trembles 
on  the  lips  of  the  drunkard  as  he  mingles  his  cup, 
and  in  the  intervals  of* his  execrations.  Even  from 
the  hall  of  youthful  revelry  might  be  heard,  were  the 


EARLY    IMPRESSIONS.  227 

language  of  the  heart  audible,  that  prayer,  their  only 
prayer,  Let  us  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 
our  last  end  be  like  his. 

Much,  however,  as  all  desire  to  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  few  are  disposed  to  live  his  life  ;  and 
yet  the  one  is  not  to  be  expected  without  the  other. 

To  urge  the  immediate  adoption  of  the  life  of  the 
righteous  cannot,  therefore,  be  impertinent  at  such 
a  time  and  before  such  an  audience. 

If  piety  be  desirable  at  all,  early  piety  is  desirable. 
Youth  is  at  once  the  most  important  and  the  most 
perilous  period  of  man's  existence. 

It  is  the  most  important,  because  it  is  the  first ; 
and,  as  such,  leaves  its  own  impressions  on  all  those 
other  periods  that  follow  in  an  endless  series. 

Man  enters  on  existence  ignorant  and  impotent, 
but  pliable  and  docile.  The  first  impressions  on 
his  heart  are  the  deepest  and  the  most  abiding. 
Thus,  at  the  outset,  and  during  the  inceptive  process 
of  moral  agency,  a  cast  is  given  to  his  tone  of  feel- 
ing and  his  type  of  character.  Secondary  impres- 
sions of  a  similar  kind  only  deepen  the  preceding, 
and  carry  forward  the  process  of  formation.  Soon 
his  taste  receives  a  bias  ;  soon  his  pleasures  are  se- 
lected, his  companions  chosen,  and  his  manner  of 
life  settled.  Thenceforward  he  advances,  I  do  not 
say  under  an  absolute  necessity  of  being,  but  strong- 
ly predisposed  to  be,  for  ever  after  what  he  hitherto 
has  been.  Habit  renders  pleasurable  what  indul- 
gence has  made  familiar.  Hence  the  sentiments 
cherished,  the  maxims  adopted,  the  modes  of  think- 
ing and  acting  practised  in  youth,  cleave  to  the  man 


228  DANGERS    OF    YOUTH. 

with  the  tenacity  of  a  second  nature  ;  and  thus  the 
web  of  Ufe  runs  on  uniform  in  its  texture,  and  woven 
of  the  same  material  to  its  close.  All,  therefore, 
that  is  either  grand  and  glorious,  or  mean  and  mis- 
erable, in  ceaseless  being,  is  contained  Jn  embryo  in 
life's  first  act.  And  every  step  which  the  actor 
takes  on  earth  is  a  step  of  destiny ;  for  it  is  a  step 
towards  hell  or  heaven. 

As  youth  is  the  most  important,  so  it  is  the  most 
perilous  'period  of  man^s  existence. 

It  is  the  period  of  fancy,  of  imagination,  of  pas- 
sion ;  the  period  when  the  world  appears  most  gaudy, 
and  pleasure  is  most  enticing.  Reason,  as  yet,  has 
not  detected  the  sophistry  of  sin,  nor  experience  re- 
vealed its  bitterness.  Even  that  worldly  prudence 
which  age  imparts  is  not  yet  acquired  ;  and  all  the 
avenues  of  the  heart  are  left  open  and  unguarded  to 
the  assaults  of  every  invader. 

Now  it  is  that  health  nerves  the  arm,  ardour  fires 
the  bosom,  and  insatiable  desires  prompt  to  action. 
Now  it  IS  that  a  field  of  ideal  glory  presents  itself, 
rich  in  objects  of  interest,  and  replete  with  scenes  of 
gratification  ;  a  field  where  every  evil  is  disguised, 
every  danger  concealed,  every  enemy  masked ; 
where  vision  follows  vision,  and  phantom  succeeds 
phantom.  Wealth,  honour,  pleasure,  each  big  with 
promise,  but  faithless  in  performance,  courts  his  at- 
tention and  solicits  his  choice.  Forms  of  beauty 
flit  before  his  eye,  songs  of  melody  enchant  his  ear, 
streams  of  bliss  invite  his  taste  ;  and,  before  a  crea- 
ture who  is  to  die  to-morrow,  a  long  life  rises  up  in 
prospect;  while  from  the  banquet   of  bewildering 


RELIGION  THE  BEST  SAFEGUARD.    229 

folly  a  voice  is  heard  to  say,  "  Rejoice,  oh  young 
man,  in  thy  youth,  and  let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in 
the  days  of  thy  youth  ;  and  walk  in  the  ways  of 
thine  heart  and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes  ;"  but  that 
voice  adds  not,  and  the  deluded  victim  knows  not, 
that  it  remains  to  be  added,  "  Know  thou  that  for  all 
these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment?" 

At  such  a  moment  of  danger,  at  such  a  crisis  of 
being,  ah  I  how  needful  the  eye  of  faith,  the  anchor 
of  hope,  and  the  monition  of  the  Spirit. 

Religion,  at  the  very  outset,  places  her  votary  on 
the  vantage  ground  in  this  warfare  of  the  soul.  To 
him,  in  anticipation,  she  unmasks  the  world,  exposes 
its  vanity,  discovers  the  sting  which  sin  conceals, 
and  detects  the  poison  which  pleasure  mingles  in  her 
chalice.  When  temptation  assails,  when  passion 
impels,  when  companions  invite,  she  interposes  eter- 
nal sanctions,  sheds  prophetic  light  on  the  eye  turn- 
ed heavenward  ;  and  God,  who  sees,  is  seen  by  it : 
the  spell  breaks,  the  vision  vanishes,  and  the  child 
of  promise,  recovering  his  decision,  shrinks  back, 
and  drops  the  fatal  cup,  untasted,  from  his  hand. 
His  patrimony  is  spared,  his  constitution  spared,  his 
honour  spared :  life  still  remains  a  blessing,  and 
heaven  is  still  attainable. 

What  but  piety  preserved  Joseph  in  the  house  of 
Potiphar  ?  W^hat  but  piety  sustained  Josiah  on  the 
throne  of  Israel  ?  You  remember  the  history  of  this 
enviable  youth  1  Descended  from  a  libertine  parent- 
age, nurtured  at  a  licentious  court,  he  succeeded  at 
a  tender  age  to  the  sovereignty  of  a  mighty  empire. 
But  even  on  this  giddy  height,  and  compassed  by 


230  EXAMPLE    OF    JOSIAH. 

every  allurement  and  seduction,  the  young  Josiah 
stood  secure ;  and,  though  he  had  no  example  to 
copy,  no  friend  to  counsel,  no  monitor  to  warn,  still 
he  continued  inflexible,  and  to  the  end  resolutely 
maintained  his  integrity.  More  than  this,  he  breast- 
ed the  torrent  of  national  corruption,  gave  a  new 
tone  to  public  sentiment,  and  brought  back  a  whole 
community  to  the  practice  of  virtue  and  the  worship 
of  Jehovah. 

And  what  was  the  cause  of  this  singular  felicity  ? 
Religion.  His  heart  had  been  early  imbued  with 
the  spirit  of  piety,  and  he  entered  on  his  reign  in  the 
fear  of  the  God  of  his  fathers.  It  was  not  the  bat- 
tles he  fought,  it  was  not  the  desolation  he  occasion- 
ed, but  the  deeds  of  goodness  he  performed  which 
endear  his  memory,  and  will  continue  to  endear  it  to 
a  thousand  generations. 

Adventurous  youth,  just  entering  on  the  world, 
need  you  not  that  shelter  which  Josiah  needed  ? 
Are  you  quite  sure  that  no  temptation  will  prevail 
against  your  virtue  1  no  sally  of  passion  pollute  your 
honour  1  no  deed  of  rashness  wreck  your  hopes  1 
Go,  then,  daring  adventurer ;  go  unsheltered  to  the 
combat,  and  without  thine  armour.  Thy  very  con- 
fidence is  ominous,  and  presages  naught  but  danger. 
Now,  as  formerly,  Quern  vult  Deus  perdere.  prius 
demeniat. 

But,  apart  from  the  virtue  it  secures  and  the  safety 
it  affords,  it  were  wise  to  become  religious  in  youth, 
because  of  the  uncertainty  of  becoming  so  thereafter. 

Whether  you  desire  at  all  to  become  religious  is 
not  now,  nor  has  it  ever  been,  a  question.     Live  as 


FOLLY    OF   DELAYING   REPENTANCE.      231 

he  may,  no  man  means  to  die  a  sinner.  Each  one 
who  hears  me  has  already  offered  up  the  prayer  of 
the  son  of  Beor ;  and  you  all  intend  to  put  your- 
selves in  an  attitude  for  receiving  its  fulfilment. 
Yes ;  you  all  intend,  ere  long,  and  before  the  sum- 
mons shall  have  gone  foith,  Aivay,  sinner^  away  to 
judgment,  you  all  intend  to  break  off  your  sins  by 
repentance,  and  by  faith  to  make  your  peace  with 
God. 

But  when  1  Perhaps  in  meridian  life — in  old  at 
farthest.  But  know  you  not  that  the  meridian  life, 
the  old  age  on  which  you  calculate,  and  on  which 
such  mighty  interests  are  to  hang  suspended,  are  quite 
uncertain  1  Has  mortal  man  any  claim  upon  the 
future  1  Or  lives  there  one  who  is  certain  of  to- 
morrow ? 

Rash  neglecter  of  present  opportunity,  who  art 
thou  1  or  what  was  thine  origin,  and  what  will  be  thine 
end,  that  thou  shouldst  court  such  hazard,  and  stake 
thy  soul  on  a  mere  contingency  ? 

On  repentance  that  is  future  thou  art  relying  for 
the  expiation  of  present  crimes.  But  when  is  that 
repentance  to  be  performed  1  Where  is  it  to  be 
performed  ?  On  earth  ?  Hast  thou,  then,  made  a 
covenant  with  death?  Hast  thou  entered  into  a 
league  with  hell  1  Are  the  ministers  of  wrath  shut 
up,  or  is  the  arm  of  Omnipotence  chained  back,  that 
folly  should  presume  on  sufferance,  and  treason  rely 
upon  impunity  ? 

Behold,  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhah- 
iteih  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy,  your  covenant 
with  death  shall  not  stand ;  your  agreement  with  hell 


232     UNCERTAINTY  OF  THE  FUTURE. 

shall  be  disannulled.  When  the  overjloiving  scourge 
shall  pass  through,  then  ye  shall  be  t7'odden  down  of 
it.  Judgment  also  ivill  I  lay  to  the  line,  and  righte- 
ousness to  the  plummet;  and  the  hail  shall  sweep 
away  the  refuge  of  lies,  and  the  waters  shall  overflow 
the  hiding-place — of  sinners. 

Preposterous  youth,  and  are  thy  powers  of  action 
at  the  outset  to  be  perverted,  and  thy  first  years  of 
being  to  be  filled  up  with  sin  1  How  durst  thou, 
even  for  a  moment,  make  God  thine  enemy,  and 
set  thy  Maker  at  defiance  ?  When  he  but  wills  the 
sinner's  overthrow,  every  agent  in  the  universe  be- 
comes a  messenger  of  evil,  and  every  element  of 
nature  a  minister  of  death.  Now,  as  formerly,  there 
is  a  destroying  angel  that  walketh  in  darkness,  and 
a  pestilence  that  wasteth  at  noon  day. 

Be  your  intentions  what  they  may  as  to  a  future 
reformation,  what  assurance  have  you  of  a  future  op- 
portunity 1  How  know  you  that  G  od  will  propor- 
tion his  mercy  to  your  misery,  and  spare  you  until 
age,  that  you  may  bewail  the  crimes  of  youth  : 
crimes  deliberately  committed,  and  with  a  view  to 
be  repented  of? 

A  fearful  uncertainty  overhangs  the  future.  Youth 
and  age,  strength  and  imbecility,  bow  alike  before 
the  King  of  Terrors.  That  young  man,  devoid  of 
understanding,  whom  Solomon  saw  from  the  case- 
ment of  his  window,  presumed  on  future  penitence. 
Imboldened  by  this  presumption,  he  yielded  to  the 
voice  of  flattery,  and  hastened  to  that  banquet  whence 
he  returned  not ;  for  suddenly  a  dart  passed  through 
his  vitals.    Thus  goeth  the  sinner  to  his  pleasure,  as 


PROBABILITY  (F  EARLY  DEATH.    233 

the  OX  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  the  bird  to  the  snare, 
and  knoweth  not  that  it  is  for  his  life. 

Indulge  not  the  vain  dream  of  a  future  opportuni- 
ty. In  the  counsels  of  God  no  such  opportunity 
may  ever  be  granted.  On  the  contrary,  many  of 
you  will  die  ;  will  have  appeared  at  the  bar  of  God  ; 
will  have  received  your  doom,  and  passed  onward  to 
that  state  where  the  unrighteous  are  unrighteous  still, 
before  that  period  shall  have  arrived  which  you  are 
now  presumptuously  appropriating  to  a  preparation 
for  these  dread  events. 

Do  you  ask  for  proof  of  this?  The  monuments 
m  every  cemetery  furnish  it.  There  it  is  written  on 
many  a  marble  tablet,  with  the  iron  pen  of  death. 
Have  you  not  beheld  those  mounds  where  youth  and 
beauty  lie  interred  ?  Have  you  not  read  the  prophet- 
ic lessons  there  inscribed  ?  The  testimony  of  the 
dead  is  decisive  testimony  :  sustained  by  which,  we 
announce  to  you  who  hear  us,  that  many  a  living  youth 
is  marked  for  the  sepulchre,  and  will  prematurely 
reach  it.  The  decree  has  passed  ;  the  designation 
for  early  death  has  already  been  made  in  heaven ; 
and  time  will  reveal  the  order  of  that  succession 
which  will  conduct  you  severally  to  your  unlooked- 
for  dissolution.  How  dangerous,  then,  delay ! 
Hcpes  built  on  future  opportunity,  how  fallacious ! 
Know,  oh  man  !  that  now  is  the  accepted  time, 
now  the  day  of  salvation.  By  embracing  religion 
now,  you  make  God  your  friend,  and  secure  the  prize 
of  immortality.  By  neglecting  to  embrace  it,  you 
put  your  souls  in  jeopardy,  and  leave  the  question 
of  ultimate  salvation  suspended  on  contingency  :  a 


234  MENTAL   DERANGEMENT. 

contingency  how  full  of  peril !  since  more  than  half 
of  all  who  yet  have  hved  have  died  before  maturity. 
And,  knowing  this,  will  the  living  still  procrastinate  ? 
Or,  if  they  do,  will  not  death,  that  finds  them  with- 
out preparation,  find  them  also  without  excuse  ? 

But  death  is  not  the  only  contingency  which  ren- 
ders dependance  on  future  penitence  fallacious. 

Those  mental  powers,  without  the  exercise  of 
which  repentance  is  impossible,  are  held  by  a  preca- 
rious tenure.  God,  who  withdraws  his  spirit  and 
the  heart  indurates,  touches  the  nerves  of  the  brain 
and  reason  departs,  foresight  departs,  reflection 
departs,  and  all  the  attributes  on  which  moral 
agency  depends,  and  which  give  to  being  all  its  value, 
as  if  blotted  from  the  soul,  cease  to  be  manifest ; 
or,  if  manifest,  appearing  only  in  conflict,  like  the 
troubled  elements  of  nature  when  the  laws  which 
govern  them  are  disturbed  or  suspended. 

Have  you  not  read  of  that  king  of  Babylon,  ex- 
iled by  mental  malady  from  the  society  of  man,  who 
ate  grass  like  the  ox,  and  was  wet  with  the  dew  of 
heaven  till  his  hair  became  like  birds'  feathers,  and 
his  nails  like  eagles'  claws  1 

Have  you  never  seen  a  fellow-creature  bereft  of 
reason,  chained  in  his  cell,  or  fearfully  ranging  in 
his  liberty  ?  And  felt  you  not  the  withering  influ- 
ence of  that  glance  which  he  cast  upon  you  1  Felt 
you  not  the  spell  of  that  piercing  shriek  which  he 
sent  forward  to  your  ear?  That  unhappy  being 
once  possessed  talents  ;  once  indulged  in  dreams 
of  happiness ;  once  formed  plans  of  reformation. 
Wretched  wanderer,  what  avail  him  now  those  plana 
and  purposes  ! 


GOD  CALLS  TO  PRESENT  REPENTANCE.   235 

Can  he  pray  1  Can  he  believe  1  Can  he  repent, 
or  make  aught  of  preparation  for  death,  for  heaven, 
or  for  judgment  1  Ah !  no.  Whatever  of  guiU  was 
on  his  conscience,  when  from  the  Almighty  this 
blight  came  over  him,  he  must  carry  it  unrepented 
of,  and  therefore  unforgiven,  to  the  bar  of  retribution. 

His  fate,  presumptuous  young  man,  may  be  thine 
own.  Blinds  of  the  finest  texture  and  the  highest 
cultivation  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  mental  malady. 
They  who  think  most  are  most  in  danger  of  losing 
the  capacity  of  thought.  It  is  from  the  halls  of 
science,  from  among  the  votaries  of  the  muses,  that 
lunatic  asylums  receive  their  most  regular  and  con- 
stant accessions.  Oh,  then,  serve  God  now.  Here- 
after thou  mayest  not  have  the  ability  to  serve  him ; 
or,  if  the  ability,  not  the  disposition. 

You  imagine  reason  permanent,  death  distant; 
and  that  ample  time  remains  to  be  appropriated  to 
religion.  Suppose  it  were  so :  does  it  follow  that 
that  time  will  be  so  appropriated  ?  Having  despised 
God  in  youth,  are  you  sure  that  you  will  be  disposed 
to  render,  or  he  to  accept  the  services  of  age  ?  It  is 
not  quite  so  clear  that  sin  indulged  conduces  to  the 
renunciation  of  sin  ;  or  that  the  dregs  of  life  are  the 
most  acceptable  offering  which  man  can  present  to 
his  Maker. 

It  is  not  said  of  those  who  seek  God  late,  but  of 
those  who  seek  him  early,  that  they  shall  find  him. 
Wherefore,  ye  young,  turn  at  his  reproof.  On  you 
he  will  pour  out  his  Spirit :  to  you  he  will  make 
known  his  words.  Reason  allows  of  no  delay  :  re- 
ligion allows  of  no  delay.     The  language  of  both 


236  SIN    HARDENS    THE    HEART. 

is,  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 

youth,  before  the  evil  days  come,  and  the  years  draw 

nigh   when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in 

them.      Now  is  the  time  for  decisive  action  ;  noiv, 

not  to-morrow.     God  is  found  of  them  who  seek 

him  early  : 

"  Now  is  the  time  he  bends  his  ear, 
And  waits  for  your  request ; 
Come,  lest  he  rouse  his  wrath,  and  swear 
You  shall  not  see  my  rest." 

But  if  you  neglect  to  secure  salvation  in  a  season 
the  most  favourable,  is  it  probable  that  you  will  se- 
cure it  in  a  season  that  is  the  least  so  ?  Will  crime, 
think  you,  appear  more  odious  the  more  it  is  famil- 
iarized ]  Or  will  the  love  of  God  fall  with  greater 
power  upon  the  heart  the  longer  it  casts  contempt 
upon  that  love  1 

Ah  !  no  ;  though  you  were  to  live  as  long  as  did 
Methusaleh,  if  you  embrace  not  religion  in  youth,  it 
is  not  probable  that  you  will  afterward  embrace  it. 
As  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree  is  inclined  throughout 
the  whole  extent  of  God's  moral  husbandry.  Ex- 
ceptions, indeed,  there  may  be,  but  they  are  only 
exceptions. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  detract  from  the  power  of 
grace,  or  to  set  limits  to  the  Holy  One  of  Israel. 
There  is  a  bolt  by  which  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  is 
riven,  a  blast  before  which  the  oak  of  Bashan 
bows.  But  not  like  these  are  the  ordinary  visita- 
tions of  the  Spirit.  It  descends,  not  like  the  tem- 
pest in  its  strength,  assailing  the  aged,  and  subduing 
the  confirmed  in  sin,  but  like  the  shower  upon  the 
new-mown  grass,  the  dew  upon  the  tender  plant, 


AGED    SINNERS.  237 

caui^ing  thp  young  to  hearken,  and  out  of  the  mouths 
of  babes  and  suckUngs  perfecting  praise. 

I  repeat  it :  if  you  do  not  in  youth  embrace  reli- 
gion, it  is  not  probable  that  you  will  ever  afterward 
embrace  it. 

Among  the  multitude  by  crime  rendered  memo- 
rable, can  you  name  one  sinner  whom  age  has  re- 
formed ?  It  was  not  Cain ;  it  was  not  Ahab  ;  it 
was  not  Jezebel ;  it  was  not  Herod  :  no,  nor  was  it 
any  of  their  profane  coadjutors.  But,  waving  the 
record  of  by-gone  days,  where  is  now  its  reforming 
influence  ? 

Look  into  the  world.  Do  you  not  see  the  misei 
still  hugging  his  treasure,  and  the  drunkard  still  rev- 
elling in  his  cups,  though  both  are  gray  with  age, 
and  bending  to  the  tomb  1  Even  these  wretched 
outcasts,  now  so  dead  in  sin,  so  callous  to  reproof, 
once  seriously  intended  to  devote  the  evening  of  their 
days  to  God. 

But  have  they  done  this  1  No  :  nor  will  they. 
In  the  attitude  you  see  them  now,  death  will  find 
them,  and,  with  their  sins  upon  them,  they  will  ap- 
pear at  the  bar  of  judgment. 

Age  reform  the  sinner?  Ah,  no!  Age  has  no 
reforming  power.  As  well  might  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin  or  the  leopard  his  spots,  as  that 
they  who  have  been  accustomed  to  do  evil  should 
learn  to  do  well. 

But  you  imagine  that  with  you  it  will  be  different. 
That,  unlike  those  miserable  men  who  have  lived  be- 
fore you,  you  will  love  sin  less  the  more  you  prac- 
tice it ;   that  you  will  think  of  God  more  the  longer 


238  god's  spirit  essential  to  conversion. 

he  has  been  forgotten  ;  that,  havmg  first  secured  this 
world,  you  will  be  all  attention  to  secure  the  next. 

Were  it  even  so,  still  your  salvation  would  be  un- 
certain. Wearied  and  worn  out  in  the  service  of 
Satan,  what  assurance  have  you  that  you  will  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  service  of  God  1  The  vigour  of  youth 
exhausted  in  dishonouring  your  Creator,  is  it  certain 
he  will  accept  the  dregs  of  age — the  valueless  trib- 
ute you  have  the  audacity  to  intend  offering  him  ? 

When  the  frosts  of  threescore  years  shall  have 
passed  over  you,  withering  all  your  joys,  and  ex- 
tinguishing all  your  hopes  ;  when,  having  reached 
the  verge  of  life,  and  standing  on  the  brink  of  eter- 
nity, you  shall  turn  your  affrighted  eye  to  heaven, 
and  try  your  unpractised  voice  in  supplication  unto 
God,  are  you  quite  sure  that  he  will  hear  your  cry,  that 
he  will  answer  your  petition  1  May  he  not  then  say 
to  you  as  he  said  to  Judah,  Go  now,  and  anj  unto  the 
gods  to  whom  you  have  offered  sacrifice  ?  May  he 
not  say  unto  you.  Go,  sinner ;  go  to  the  world — to 
its  pastimes  and  pleasures :  these  have  been  thine 
idols  ;  let  them  save  thee. 

There  is  a  state,  in  regard  to  which  God  says  of 
the  wicked,  they  shall  cry  to  wie,  but  I  will  no  an^ 
swer. 

The  spirit  of  God  is  indispensable  to  your  con- 
version. That  spirit  now  offers  you  its  aid.  Be- 
hold, I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock.  Hitherto  you 
have  refused  it  admission.  Even  now  you  say,  De- 
part from  us :  we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy 
ways.  Taken  at  your  word,  that  spirit  may  depart 
from  you.     Know  you  not  who  it  was  that  said, 


SINNER    ABANDONED    BY    GOD.  239 

My  spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man  1  Wo 
unto  that  sinner,  abandoned  by  the  Spirit,  concern- 
ing whom  it  shall  be  said,  as  it  was  said  of  Ephra- 
im  of  old.  Let  him  alone  ;  he  is  joined  to  his  idols. 
Oh  God  !  interpose  thy  mercy,  and  avert  from  us 
so  frightful  a  doom ;  and  to  thy  name  shall  be  the 
glory.     Amen. 


240  COMMAND    OF    CHRIST. 

XIV. 

ADDRESS  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  BIBLE  SOCIETY,  1819, 

[Character  and  Design  of  the  Bible  Society, — Christian  Com 
munities  do  not  sufficiently  appreciate  their  indebtedness  to 
the  Bible. — Nearly  all  that  is  pure  in  Morals  or  kindly  in  Feel- 
ing derived  from  it.— In  the  first  Ages  of  the  World,  God's 
Communications  to  Man  were  direct,  and  were  perpetuated 
and  extended  by  Tradition. — The  early  Longevity  of  Mankind 
favourable  to  this  — The  Traditions  and  Institutions  of  heathen 
Nations  coincide  with  and  confirm  the  sacred  Records  of  the 
Jews. — Divine  Revelation  and  the  Speculations  of  human 
Reason,  as  exhibited  m  their  different  Kffects. — Dreadful 
Moral  Corruption  of  the  heathen  World.— Influence  of  Chris- 
tianity in  ameliorating  the  Condition  and  Morals  of  Mankind. 
— Unspeakable  importance  of  Divine  Revelation  in  regard  to 
a  future  State. — The  duty  of  Christians  to  extend  it  to  ail 
Nations.] 

Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to 
every  creature,  said  the  risen  Saviour  to  his  aston- 
ished disciples.  Obedient  to  his  mandate,  and  re- 
nouncing their  humble  occupations,  they  began  to 
publish  the  glad  tidijsgs. 

What  was  said  to  them  is,  in  effect,  said  to  us, 
and  to  all  who  have  received  the  doctrine  of  his  res- 
urrection. Though  not  evangelists  ourselves,  it  is 
our  duty  to  become  helpers  to  those  who  are.  And 
this  we  may  do  extensively,  and,  if  God  please,  ef- 
ficaciously, by  aiding  to  translate,  to  print,  and  to 
distribute  the  book  in  which  that  gospel,  command- 
ed to  be  preached  to  every  creature,  is  contained. 

The  speaker's  voice  is  evanescent :  this  printed 
record  permanent.      The  speaker's  voice  is  erring  f 


CHARACTER    OF    THE    BIBLE    SOCIETY.    241 

this  printed  record  is  truth  itself;  the  pure,  unmixed, 
unadulterated  word  of  God. 

I  address  the  members  of  this  society,  not  as  a 
few  isolated  individuals,  associated  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  a  Bible  to  each  one  of  their  destitute  acquaint- 
ance (though  this  were  laudable),  but  as  an  integral 
part  of  a  vast  association :  an  association  which 
stretches  across  the  ocean,  and  compasses  both  con- 
tinents ;  an  association  which  concentrates  the  in- 
fluence of  distant  nations,  and  is  grasping  the  mighty 
object  of  preaching  by  the  printed  word,  in  all  lan- 
guages, the  gospel  of  their  common  Lord  to  every 
creature.  An  association,  in  behalf  of  which  saints 
on  earth  offer  up  their  prayers  ;  on  which  angels  in 
heaven  look  down  propitious  ;  and  which  shall,  as 
-we  trust  in  God,  continue  to  exist  long  after  its  pres- 
ent members  are  forgotten  ;  nor  remit  its  exertions 
till  every  family  under  heaven  possesses  a  Bible, 
and  each  member  thereof  has  read  or  listened  to  its 
contents. 

In  contemplating  such  an  association,  with  what 
force  do  the  prophetic  words  of  St.  John  rush  upon 
the  mind  !  Jlnd  I  saiu  another  angel  flying  through 
the  midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlasting  gospel 
to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth ;  and  to 
every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people. 

If  the  most  splendid  triumphs  followed  the  first 
proclamation  of  the  glad  tidings  by  the  living  voice, 
what  may  we  not  hope  for  from  a  second  proclama- 
tion of  the  same  tidings  by  the  written  word  !  And 
who  knows  but  the  reappearance  of  that  primitive 
catholic  spirit,  which  is  forcing  into  union  sects  so 


242  AIM    OF    THE    BLBIjE    SOClETir. 

adverse,  and  giving  a  moral  organization  to  the  com- 
monwealth of  Christendom — who  knows  but  this 
spirit  is  the  welcome  harbinger,  and  this  organiza- 
tion the  honoured  instrument  destined  to  introduce 
the  church's  jubilee — mankind's  millennium  1 

To  justify  the  formation  of  a  society,  it  is  suffi- 
cient that  its  object  be  a  rightful  one.  But  if  the 
public  patronage  be  claimed  in  its  behalf;  if  the 
community  are  called  upon  to  embark  in  its  design ; 
if  the  rich  are  required  to  contribute  their  riches,  the 
powerful  their  influence,  and  the  pious  their  prayers, 
then  is  it  incumbent  on  its  advocate  to  show,  not 
only  that  the  object  proposed  by  it  is  rightful,  but 
that  it  is  also  important ;  and  that  great  exertions 
are  not  called  for  without  an  aim  commensurately 
great. 

In  behalf  of  the  society  in  whose  name  I  now 
address  you,  great  exertions  are  called  for ;  and  I 
trust  it  can  also  be  shown  that  its  aim  is  commen- 
surately great  ;  equally  great  in  point  of  goodness 
and  of  magnitude. 

To  attempt  this  before  a  Christian  audience  may 
by  some  be  deemed  unnecessary.  Alas !  that  it 
were  not  so.  We  eulogize  the  Bible,  but  how  much 
of  this  is  from  habit.  We  boast  of  our  advantages  ; 
but  are  they  not  merely  words  of  course  ?  Do  the 
people  generally  realize — does  the  statesman  real- 
ize— does  even  the  Christian  at  the  altar  of  his  God 
realize  the  supreme  felicity  he  enjoys,  or  feel  the 
eminence  of  that  moral  elevation  to  which  the  Bible 
has  exalted  him.  Basking  in  the  sunshine  of  gos« 
pel  ordinances,  and  having  never  groped  amid  thai 


ERA    OF    ORAL    COMMUNICATION.  243 

frightful  darkness  which  elsewhere  overshadows  the 
nations,  we  measure  not  the  distance  which  separ- 
ates the  pagan  from  the  Christian,  nor  appreciate 
what  a  wretched,  friendless,  hopeless  world  this  earth 
had  been  without  the  light  of  Divine  revelation. 

To  this  light  is  owing  whatever  of  benignity  of 
manners^  whatever  of  elevation  of  character^  what- 
ever of  sublimity  of  morals  or  purity  of  faith  the 
world  exhibits. 

In  travelling  along  the  track  of  ages,  scarcely  a 
monument  of  mercy  or  a  deed  of  glory  appears  to 
rescue  from  infamy  the  fame,  and  from  oblivion  the 
memory  of  successive  generations,  which  is  not  di- 
rectly or  indirectly  referable  to  the  influence  of  that 
revelation  imbodied  in  the  Bible,  By  the  revelation 
imbodied  in  the  Bible,  I  mean  all  the  communica- 
tions made  by  God  to  man,  from  the  first  intimation 
of  his  law  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  to  the  last  splen- 
did discoveries  of  his  grace  in  the  island  of  Patmos. 

Late,  indeed,  were  inscribed  the  first  pages  of 
this  sacred  book :  a  book  which,  amid  the  wrecks 
of  art  and  the  revolutions  of  empire,  it  hath  pleased 
God  to  preserve  entire.  The  commencement  of 
its  inscription,  however,  was  not  the  commencement 
of  the  revelation  which  it  contains.  An  era  of  oral 
communication  preceded  that  of  the  written  word. 
As  the  human  race  was  in  its  origin  confined  to  a 
single  family,  and  the  first  revelations  were  made  to 
the  heads  of  that  family,  the  direct  benefits  thereof 
were  coextensive  with  the  race  itself.  As,  again,  its 
members  increased  and  spread,  they  each  became 
a  medium  of  conveyance  through  which  these  then 


244  EARLY   LONGEVITY    OF    MAN. 

unwritten  oracles  of  truth  were  carried  to  distant 
regions,  and  handed  down  to  succeeding  genera- 
tions. 

The  longevity  of  man  in  the  first  ages  favoured 
this  method  of  transmission.  Few,  indeed,  were 
the  hnks  in  that  chain  of  descent  which  connected 
the  family  of  Moses  with  the  family  of  Adam.  A 
single  individual  might  have  communicated  the  say- 
ings of  the  senior  inhabitant  of  Eden  to  the  senior 
surviver  of  the  flood.  With  each  of  these  venera- 
ble personages,  it  was  the  lot  of  Methusaleh  to  have 
lived  contemporary  ;  and  thus  an  authentic  history 
of  the  world  could  have  been  furnished,  reaching 
through  a  lapse  of  more  than  seventeen  centuries : 
during  which  period,  and  through  faith  in  God's  un- 
written testimony,  Enoch  was  translated,  and  Abel 
crowned  with  martyrdom. 

Even  amid  that  wide-spread  dissoluteness  of  man- 
ners and  abandonment  of  principle  which  preceded 
and  produced  the  deluge,  the  true  religion  was  pre- 
served by  Noah  and  the  pious  of  his  household. 
Those  infidels,  his  contemporaries,  who  had  lost  the 
knowledge  and  forsaken  the  worship  of  the  God  of 
their  fathers,  were  swept  from  the  earth  as  one 
brushes  dust  from  off*  his  garment,  and  the  race 
was  again  reduced  to  a  solitary  family  :  a  family, 
however,  instructed  in  the  events  of  antediluvian 
history  ;  made  the  depository  of  early  and  sacred 
tradition,  and  retaining  within  itself  a  knowledge  of 
the  origin  and  end  of  that  multitude  who  had  so 
miserably  perished. 

To  receive  this  family,  the  Mountain  of  Ararat 


THE    FLOOD.  245 

lifted  its  head  above  the  waters ;  whence,  as  from 
another  Eden,  Shem,  and  Ham,  and  Japheth  went 
forth  to  repeople  the  desolate  earth,  and  to  re-estab- 
lish the  worship  of  the  true  God  upon  it.  From  one 
or  the  other  of  these  favoured  individuals,  the  mill- 
ions now  alive  have  derived  their  being.  The  Gen- 
tiles, therefore,  must  have  been  originally  conversant 
with  revelation — with  the  same  revelation  that  we 
now  possess ;  and  which,  after  being  enlarged  and 
perfected,  was  imbodied  in  the  Bible  :  a  revelation 
competent  to  make,  and  which  has  made  as  many 
as  have  preserved  and  obeyed  it,  wise  unto  eternal 
Hfe. 

To  what  extent  the  true  religion  was  thus  spread, 
or  how  long,  and  in  what  degree  of  purity  it  was  pre- 
served, we  know  not.  But  we  do  know,  that  as  late 
as  the  time  of  Abraham,  the  courts  of  Pharaoh,  king 
of  Egypt,  and  Abimelech,  king  of  Gerar,  retained 
the  knowledge,  were  familiar  with  the  institutions, 
and  acknowledged  the  authority  of  the  same  invisi- 
ble Being  who  was  worshipped  by  the  father  of  the 
faithful.  And  we  also  know,  that  when  he  returned 
from  the  pursuit  of  Chederlaomer,  even  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Sodom,  he  passed  through  Salem,  a  city  of 
righteousness,  and  there  received  the  benediction  of 
a  priest  of  the  most  high  God.  How  many  such 
cities  of  righteousness  the  world  at  that  time  con- 
tained, we  are  not  informed  ;  nor,  considering  the 
brevity  of  sacred  history,  is  it  to  be  expected  that  we 
should  be.  But  we  may  well  suppose  that  the  un- 
written revelation  which  had  accomplished  thus 
much  may  have  accomplished  much  more  ;   for,  as 


246 


EARLY    REVELATION. 


we  have  said,  there  were  but  few  links  in  the  chain 
of  descent  between  the  first  man  and  the  first  inspired 
writer ;  and  those  links  are  all  known.  Thus  Mo- 
ses might  have  conversed  with  Kohath  ;  Kohath  with 
Jacob  ;  Jacob  with  Abraham  ;  Abraham  with  Shem  ; 
Shem  with  Methusaleh,  and  Methusaleh  with  Adam. 

Had  the  genealogy  of  other  nations  been  kept 
with  the  same  exactitude,  and  reported  with  the  same 
fidelity,  doubtless  many  additional  channels  of  tradi- 
tionary knowledge,  and,  perhaps,  equally  unexcep- 
tionable, had  been  afforded. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  from  the  longevity  of  man 
and  the  condition  of  society  in  the  first  ages,  that, 
whatever  just  ideas  of  God  were  entertained,  what- 
ever hallowed  sentiments  of  devotion  were  cherish- 
ed, whatever  acts  of  practical  goodness  were  exhib- 
ited, all  these  may  have  resulted  from  revelations 
made  to  Adam,  repeated  to  Noah,  and  transmitted 
to  his  descendants. 

But  if,  from  the  longevity  of  man  and  the  condi- 
tion of  society  ia  the  first  ages,  this  may  have  been 
the  case,  from  other  indubitable  facts  it  is  obvious 
that  it  must  have  been  so. 

Similarity  of  ceremonies  and  institutions,  of  points 
of  doctrine  and  forms  of  devotion,  between  the  Isra- 
elites and  the  other  ancient  nations,  evinces  not  only 
a  common  origin,  but  that  they  all  derived  the  great 
constituent  parts  of  their  worship,  as  well  as  the  es- 
sential articles  of  their  belief,  from  the  same  pure 
source — the  revelation  of  God. 

Nor  is  this  mere  assumption.  That  the  world 
was  created  in  six  days  ;  that  the  human  race  sprung 


REVELATION    AND    TRADITION.  247 

from  a  single  pa  r  ;  that  their  primeval  state  was  holy 
and  happy  ;  that  they  apostatized  from  God  ;  that 
misery  followed,  and  that  their  whole  posterity,  with 
the  exception  of  Noah  and  his  family,  were  destroy- 
ed by  a  flood  :  these  are  truths  of  revelation  with 
which  the  records  of  all  antiquity  are  replete.  They 
are  replete,  too,  with  direct  and  solemn  recognitions 
of  the  institution  of  mariiage,  of  the  Sabbath  as  a  day 
of  rest,  and  of  sacrifice  as  a  propitiation  for  sin.* 

*  The  ancient  Hindus,  according  to  Strabo,  declared  that  the 
world  was  made ;  that  it  will  have  an  end ;  that  God  made  it ; 
that  he  governs  it ;  and  that  he  pervades  the  universe.  The 
ancient  Chinese,  Egyptians,  Phosnicians,  Greeks,  and  Romans 
held  nearly  the  same  doctrines. 

In  the  Orphic  Hymns  it  is  thus  written  :  "  Regard  steadily  the 
Maker  of  the  world.  He  is  one  ;  he  is  self-existent :  from  him 
all  things  sprung.  Surrounding  the  whole  universe  with  his 
present  energy,  no  mortal  sees  him  :  he  alone  sees  all  things." 

Maximus  Tyrius  declares  that  it  is  the  universal  opinion  of 
mankind  that  there  is  one  God ;  and  Sophocles,  that  God  is  one, 
and  only  one,  and  that  he  made  all  things. 

"  The  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  waters,"  says  Moses. 
"  The  world  was  all  darkness,  undiscernible,  undistinguisha- 
ble,  till  the  self-existent  God  dispelled  the  gloom,"  says  Menu, 
son  of  Brahma. 

Sanchoniathon  styles  the  wind  which  breathed  on  the  original 
chaos  the  voice  of  the  mouth  of  Jehovah.  Thales  says  that  the 
night  was  older  than  the  day  ;  and  Ovid,  that  at  first,  when  cha- 
os existed,  the  sun  was  not,  nor  the  moon. 

Sanchoniathon  asserts  that  the  first  parents  of  mankind  sprang 
from  the  earth  ;  being  one  male  and  one  female. 

Homer  and  Hesiod  agree  that  man  was  formed  from  the  earth  ; 
and  Euripides  adds,  that  the  spirit  returns  to  heaven,  whence  it 
was  derived. 

Plato  says,  "  In  the  days  of  old  there  flourished  a  divine  nature 
in  the  first  man  ;  and  the  likeness  of  man  to  Goa  consists  in  this, 
that  man  be  holy.  After  the  father  of  the  universe  beheld  his 
work,  he  rejoiced  therein.  He  willed  that  all  things  should  be 
good,  it  was  not  fitting  that  he  who  is  the  best  good,  should 
make  anything  but  what  was  perfect.  Then  God  fed  and  gov- 
erned men  himself,  as  men  now  feed  and  govern  themselves. 
They  fed  on  the  fruits  of  trees,  as  the  earth  spontaneously  sup- 


248  REVELATION   AND    TRADITION. 

Whence  had  the  Gentiles  these  things  ?     Did  dif- 
ferent nations,  and  kindred,  and  tongues,  and  people, 

plied  them  without  culture.  They  were  naked  also,  and  passed 
their  time  in  Ihe  open  air,  reposing  on  the  verdant  herbs."  The 
cause  of  vice,  he  adds,  is  from  our  first  parents. 

Eurysus  says  that  God  made  man  in  his  own  image  ;  and  Ca 
tullus  affirms  the  corruption  of  the  race,  after  they  had  lost  their 
original  righteousness,  to  have  been  generally  believed. 

Hesiod  declares  that  the  first  mortals  were  of  a  serene  and 
quiet  spirit ;  that  the  next  generation  or  sort  of  men  were  of  a 
bad  moral  character ;  that  they  destroyed  each  other  by  acts  of 
violence,  and  that  Jupiter  hid  them. 

Berosus,  the  Chaldean,  says  that  there  were  ten  generations 
before  the  flood  ;  and  he  states,  as  do  also  Manetho,  Hieronymus, 
and  Hesiod,  that  in  the  first  age  the  life  of  man  was  a  thousand 
years. 

An  ark,  in  allusion  to  Noah's  preservation,  was  introduced 
into  the  religious  rites  of  many  pagan  nations.  The  dove,  which 
announced  the  subsidnig  of  the  waters,  was  held  to  be  a  sacred 
bird  ;  while  the  raven,  which  returned  not,  was  account^  a  bircJ 
of  ill  omen. 

The  bow,  the  token  of  the  covenant  spoken  of  by  Moses,  was 
revered  for  ages.  To  this  covenant  Hesiod  alludes  :  he  calls  it 
the  great  oath,  and  says  it  was  placed  in  the  heavens  as  a  sign 
to  mankind. 

Berosus,  the  Chaldean,  aflSrms  that,  at  the  time  of  the  flood, 
men  fled  to  the  top  of  a  mountain  in  Armenia  ;  and  Abidenus, 
that  birds  were  repeatedly  sent  out  of  the  ark,  and  that,  the  third 
time  they  returned,  their  feet  were  marked  with  mud. 

Three  generations  after  the  flood,  says  Melo,  Abraham  was 
born;  and  he  had  a  son  Isaac,  whom  he  was  about  to  sacrifice, 
when  a  ram  was  substituted  in  his  place. 

Hesiod  says  the  seventh  day  is  a  sacred  day ;  Homer  the 
same  ;  and  Theophilus  of  Antioch  aflnrms  that  it  is  a  day  which 
all  mankind  celebrate.  Porphyry  states  that  the  Phoenicians 
consecrated  one  day  in  seven  as  holy  ;  Linns,  that  a  seventh  day 
is  observed  among  holy  people  ;  Lucian,  that  the  seventh  day  is 
given  to  boys  as  a  holyday. 

Eusebius  asserts  that  almost  all  philosophers  and  poets  ac- 
knowledge the  seventh  day  as  holy ;  Clemens  Alexandrinus, 
that  the  Greeks,  as  well  as  the  Hebrews,  observe  the  seventh  day 
as  holy ;  and  Josephus,  that  no  city,  either  of  the  Greeks  or  barba- 
rians, can  be  found  which  does  not  acknowledge  a  seventh  day's 
rest  from  labour.  Plato  affirms  that  the  seventh  day  is  a  festival 
to  every  nation  ;  Tibullus,  that  the  seventh  day,  which  is  kept 
holy  by  the  Jews,  is  a  festival  to  the  Roman  women ;  and  Sue 


INSTITUTION    OF    SACRIFICE.  249 

Without  conceit  and  without  motive,  stumble  on  the 
septenary  division  of  time  ?  Did  the  inhabitants  of 
the  world,  by  mere  accident,  all  concur  in  resting 
from  their  labours  on  the  very  day  on  which  its 
Maker  rested  from  his  1 

The  institution  of  sacrifice  also  forces  upon  the 
mind  a  similar  interrogatory.  Sacrifice,  so  frequent, 
so  extensive,  whence  did  it  arise  1  Was  it  the  ef- 
fect of  chance  1  Was  it  from  caprice  ?  Or  did 
speculation,  in  regard  to  everything  else  so  change- 
ful and  so  contradictory,  in  this,  uniform  and  univer- 
sal as  the  laws  of  nature,  guide  nations  of  every 
temperament,  and  inhabiting  every  clime,  to  the 
same  grand  result,  the  hope  of  expiating  their 

SINS  BY  THE  BLOOD  OF  VICTIMS  SHED  IN  SACRI- 
FICE 1 

Had  the  solemnities  of  the  altar  no  assignable 
origin  ?  Had  they  no  intelligible  significance  1  Or 
did  they  not  rather  originate  in  the  mandate  of  Je- 
hovah, and  express  as  a  symbol,  and  contain  as  an 
envelope,  that  great  mystery  hid  for  ages — the  mys- 
tery of  godliness — God  manifest  in  the  flesh  1  which 
envelope  was  removed  when  the  veil  of  the  second 
temple  was  rent ;  and  the  significancy  of  which 
symbol  was  announced  when  the  cross  of  Calvary 

tonius  states  that  Diogenes,  the  grammarian,  used  to  dispute  at 
Rhodes  on  the  Sabbath-day. 

The  ancient  Celta?,  the  Hindus,  and  the  Arabians  computed 
time  by  weeks  ;  and  Dion  Cassius  affirms  that  all  the  world  learn- 
ed thus  to  reckon  time  from  the  Egyptians.  Isidorus  states 
that  the  ancient  Romans  computed  time  in  this  way  ;  and  He- 
rodotus asserts  that  this  method  of  computation  was  very  an- 
cient.— (See  Panoplist  for  1810-11,  Shuckford's  Connexions, 
and  Asiatic  Researches.) 

u 


250     TRADITION    FOUNDED    ON    REVELATION. 

was  lifted  up,  imbued  with  the  blood  of  the  last 
great  sacrifice — the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world. 

That  these  institutions  existed  among  the  nations 
is  undeniable  ;  and  if  they  did  not  exist  from  the 
beginning,  and  the  commandment  of  God  did  not 
give  rise  to  them,  when  were  they  first  introduced, 
and  what  was  the  object  of  their  introduction  1  The 
records  of  what  historian  indicate  the  one  ?  the  dog- 
mas  of  what  philosopher  reveal  the  other  ?  Of  no 
one.  Here  antiquity  is  silent,  or  speaks  only  to  con- 
fess its  ignorance.  If  you  doubt  this,  let  the  ancient 
sages  be  consulted.  They  will  tell  you  that  it  was 
neither  reason  nor  the  authority  of  the  wise,  but 
tradition,  which  gave  to  them  their  doctrines  and 
their  institutions.* 

Thus  did  revelation,  even  while  unwiitlen,  restrain 
and  guide  the  researches  of  the  wise,  direct  towards 
heaven  the  hopes  of  the  humble,  and  for  ages  pre- 

*  Plato,  in  his  Philebus,  says  :  "  The  tradition  which  T  have 
had  concerning  the  unity  of  God,  his  essence,  and  the  plurality 
of  his  perfections  and  decrees,  was  from  the  ancients,  who  were 
better  than  the  Grecians.  The  Grecians  received  their  learn- 
ing from  the  ancients,  who  lived  nearer  the  gods." 

What  is  Plato,  exclaimed  Numenius,  on  reading  his  works, 
but  Moses  speaking  in  Greek?  Plato  had  learned  the  unity  of 
God  from  Pythagoras  ;  the  immortality  of  the  soul  from  The- 
recydes.  But  these  revered  sages,  as  well  as  Orpheus,  and 
Linus,  and  Musaeus,  if  we  may  beheve  what  is  said  of  them, 
rested  the  truths  they  delivered  upon  tradition,  and  not  upon 
the  deductions  of  human  reason.  And,  so  long  as  the  light  of 
tradition  was  followed,  mankind  entertained  more  just  ideas  of 
God  and  of  duty  than  prevailed  among  them  in  later  tmies; 
ideas  in  many  respects  accordant  with  the  sacred  writings. 
The  history  of  the  ancient  Greeks,  of  the  Persians,  of  the  Ara- 
bians, of  the  Chinese,  and  of  the  Hmdus,  proves  inconttb/.itjJy 
this  surprising  truth. — See  Panoplistfor  .July,  1810,  p.  G% 


TRADITION    SUCCEEDED    BY    PHILOSOPHY.      251 

serve  from  atheism  and  idolatry  no  inconsiderable 
portion  of  the  human  family. 

The  articles  of  ancient  faith,  while  they  were  tra- 
ditionary, retained  so.neihing  of  the  unction  of  that 
Spirit  which  dictated  to  the  progenitors  of  mankind 
the  original  creed  from  which  these  articles  were  de- 
rived. Although  the  systems  adopted  were  in  many 
particulars  fabulous,  slill,  amid  their  fable,  some 
grand  truths  were  apparent ;  some  traces  of  wisdom 
and  sublimity,  which  sufficiently  distinguish  these 
venerable  compilations  from  those  degraded  and  de- 
grading theories  which  mere  human  reason  has 
since  palmed  upon  the  world.  For,  no  sooner  had 
philosophy  extinguished  the  lamp  of  tradition,  than 
an  impenetrable  gloom  settled  over  the  temple  and 
the  altar,  through  which  there  has  since  gleamed 
only  a  portentous  light,  which,  like  the  meteor's 
glare,  has  everywhere  "  led  to  bewilder,  and  dazzled 
to  blind.'' 

This  claim,  set  up  for  the  exclusive  influence  of 
revelation  in  the  production  of  whatever  there  has 
been  of  sublimity  of  faith  or  purity  of  morals  among 
the  nations — is  it  disputed?  Let  facts  then  be  appeal- 
ed to  ;  and  facts  are  not  wanting  :  facts  which  bear 
directly  and  conclusively  on  the  point  in  question ; 
for,  in  process  of  time,  the  whole  world,  the  Israel- 
ites alone  excepted,  lost  the  knowledge,  and  disre- 
garded the  sanctions  of  revealed  truth.  Out  of 
Judea,  where  the  sacred  traditions  were  imbodied 
and  their  records  deposited,  the  human  race  were  no 
longer  influenced  by  them.  Here,  then,  mere  hu- 
man intellection  found  an  opportunity  to  display  its 


252       CRUELTIES    OP    HEATHEN    WORSHIP. 

resources  and  exert  its  strength.  Mark  the  issue. 
Be  it  what  it  may,  it  definitively  settles  the  compar- 
ative merits  of  faith  and  reason,  of  revelation  and 
philosophy. 

Where  are  those  productions  of  human  intellec- 
tion to  be  found  which  may  be  put  in  competition 
with  the  sacred  oracles  ?  What  system  of  ethics 
is  there  so  pure  in  its  doctrines,  so  sanctifying  in  its 
influence  as  that  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets? 
What  nation  can  boast  a  faith  so  sublime,  a  worship 
so  spiritual,  as  that  which  signalized  the  land  of  the 
patriarchs  ? 

Is  it  Egypt  1  Egypt  is,  indeed,  renowned  for  her 
sages  and  philosophers,  her  arts  and  literature. 
Greece  even  borrowed  letters  from  the  schools  of 
the  Nile.  But  her  religion.  To  say  nothing  of 
the  spotted  calf  at  Memphis,  or  the  sacred  ox  at 
Heliopolis,  regarded  as  divinities,  what  think  you  of 
an  erudite  and  polished  people  paying  religious  hom- 
age to  cats,  to  dogs,  to  wolves,  and  to  crocodiles  1 
What  think  you  of  pools  and  pastures  kept  sacred 
to  their  accommodation  ;  of  a  tithe  imposed  for  their 
maintenance  ;  of  a  priesthood  set  apart  for  their  re- 
ligious rites  1  And,  finally,  what  think  you  of  death 
inflicted  for  the  smallest  insult  offered  to  these  four- 
footed  deities,  these  fleecy  wanderers  of  the  fields, 
or  finny  monsters  of  the  waters  1*  My  God  !  is  it 
possible?  It  is.  Such  was  ancient  Egypt.  Her 
history,  her  antiquities,  her  temples,  her  pyramids — 
the  very  monuments  which  attest  her  intellectual 
glory,  preserve  the  evidence  also  of  her  moral  deg- 
radation. 

*  Ant.  Univftr.  Hist.,  foli  vol.  i.,  book  i..  chan.  iii. 


CRUELTIES    OF   HEATHEN   WORSHIP.     253 

Is  it  Phoenicia,  then  ?  Ah !  it  was  at  Phoenicia 
where  were  heard  the  shrieks  of  children  sacrificed  to 
Saturn  !  At  Carthage,  then  1  Here,  too,  the  grim 
Moloch  stood,  extending  his  burning  arms  to  enfold 
the  immolated  infant. 

Where  next  1  India,  perhaps,  will  afford  a  more 
benign  prospect.  We  have  heard  of  the  wise  men 
of  the  East.  But  they  are  not  at  Orissa  ;  they  are 
not  in  Bengal.  The  ghastly  visages  of  the  famished 
pilgrims  assembled  there,  evince  that  the  temple  they 
frequent  is  the  abode  of  some  malignant  demon,  and 
not  the  temple  of  the  God  of  mercy.  No ;  it  is 
not  in  India  that  a  pure  faith  and  a  spiritual  worship 
are  to  be  found.  From  the  coast  of  Malabar  to  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges,  the  flame  flares  terrific  from 
the  widow's  funeral  pyre.  Graves  open  to  swallow 
up  the  living,  not  the  dead  ;  and  even  the  sacred 
Indus,  along  whose  margin  so  many  devotees  assem- 
ble— even  this  sacred  river  bears  away  to  the  croc- 
odiles and  the  sharks  many  a  shrieking  victim  whom 
an  accursed  superstition  consigns  to  its  waters.* 
At  Thibet,  too,  a  no  less  detestable  superstition 
reigns ;  and  the  fact  that,  in  the  single  city  of  Pe- 
kin,  more  than  three  thousand  infants  are  annually 
exposed  to  die,  sufficiently  acquaints  us  with  the 
moral  state  of  China.']' 

Let  us,  then,  visit  Greece.  The  Greeks  were  a 
polished  nation,  and  yet  not  even  barbarians  were 
more  barbarous  in  regard  to  religion. 

*  Ryan  on  Religion,  p.  54  ;  also  Researches  in  Asia,  by  Clau- 
dius Buchanan. 

t  Gibbon's  Rom.  Empire,  chap.  xv.  Puffendorf,  de  jure  nat 
et  Gen.,  lib.  vi.     Ryan,  sec.  iii.,  p.  253. 

Y 


254       CRUELTIES    OF    HEATHEN    WORSHIP 

History  informs  us  that  Themistocles  sacrificed 
his  Persian  captives  to  conciliate  the  lavour  of  the 
gods.  At  Salamis,  a  man  was  immolated  to  the 
daughter  of  Cecrops  ;  one  also  at  Chios,  another  at 
the  temple  of  Diomede,  and  three  at  the  temple  of 
Juno.  In  Arcadia,  even,  there  stood  an  altar  to 
Bacchus,  on  which  young  females  were  beaten  to 
death  with  rods. 

Achilles  butchered  twelve  Trojan  captives  at  the 
funeral  of  Patroclus.  A  similar  act  of  devotion  was 
performed  by  the  far-famed  .Eneas  of  Troy  to  the 
manes  of  Pallas.  Indeed,  it  was  a  common  custom 
of  the  Greeks,  before  a  war,  to  propitiate  their  gods 
by  human  sacrifices.  On  one  of  these  occasions 
Aristomenes  offered  three  hundred  human  victims  to 
Jupiter ;  and  Italy  was  supposed  to  have  been  visi- 
ted by  calamity  because  a  tenth  part  of  its  inhabi- 
tants had  not  been  sacrificed  to  the  gods.* 

In  the  worship  of  the  Greeks — nay,  in  pagan 
worship  generally — obscenity  forms  as  prominent  a 
feature  as  cruelty  :  obscenity  so  gross,  so  public,  so 
brutal,  that  the  delicacy  of  a  Christian  audience  al- 
lows only  of  its  being  alluded  to.  And  how  could 
it  be  otherwise  ?  Is  it  to  be  expected  that  the  wor- 
shipper should  be  less  cruel  or  more  chaste  than  the 
divinities  he  worships?  But  let  the  veil  rest  on 
this  loathsome  and  detested  part  of  pagan  devotion. 

What  shall  we  say,  then,  to  these  things  ?  Or 
where  else  shall  we  fly,  to  find  among  the  Gentiles  a 
temple  in  which  the  worshippers  assemble  apart  from 

♦  Plutarch's  Lives.  Horn.,  II.,  xxiii.,  175.  Virg.,  ^En.,  x.,^20. 
E  sebei,  Prjep.  Evan.,  lib.  iv.,  chap.  viii.     Ryan,  247, 8. 


PURITY    OF    THE    JEWISH    WORSHIP.       255 

scenes  of  licentiousness  and  blood  1  Not  the  tired 
dove  that  went  forth  fiom  the  window  of  the  ark,  so 
vainly  sought,  amid  the  waters  of  the  flood,  a  rest- 
ing-place for  her  foot. 

Again  I  ask,  what  shall  we  say  to  these  things  1 
Or  how  comes  it  that,  amid  this  universal  degrada- 
tion of  the  species,  the  Jews  were  not  degraded  ? 
How  comes  it  that,  while  so  many  nations  were  wan- 
dering in  the  darkness  of  this  moral  midnight,  the  in- 
habitants of  Palestine,  as  if  separated  from  the  rest 
of  mankind  by  a  wall  of  fire,  enjoyed  light  1  For 
nearly  two  thousand  years  after  the  world  had  be- 
come idolatrous  did  this  favoured  pei>ple  preserve 
the  knowledge  and  worship  of  the  true  God.  So 
stood  Mount  Zion  as  age  after  age  rolled  away  ;  so 
stood  Mount  Zion  amid  the  moral  desolation,  as  an- 
other Ararat  amid  the  deluge  of  waters.  And 
whence  this  proud  pre-eminence]  Whence  ?  From 
the  ark  of  God's  covenant  resting  on  its  summit. 
It  was  not  the  pagan  talisman,  but  the  sacred  ora- 
cles, which  shed  a  bright  radiance  around  this  hal- 
lowed eminence. 

Mount  Zion  boasted  no  superiority  in  refinement 
or  in  arts.  She  produced  no  philosophers,  no  ora- 
tors, no  tragedians.  Neither  the  Lyceum,  nor  the 
Academy,  nor  the  Forum,  nor  the  Theatre  was  hers. 
But  hers  (ah !  enviable  distinction),  hers  were  the 
oracles  of  God  ;  hers  the  Shekinah  that  overhung 
the  mercy-seat ;  and  hers  the  perpetual  fire  that 
burned  upon  the  altar.  Hers,  too,  was  the  hope  of 
Messias,  and  the  temple  of  Jehovah,  whither  the 
uhosen  tribes  repaired  to  hear  his  law  and  to  cele- 
brate his  w^rshipu 


256  THE    HILL    OF    ZION. 

The  facts  that  a  sublime  morality  \v  as  inculcated, 
a  spiritual  devotion  practised,  and  the  unity  of  God 
preserved  in  this  chosen  spot  during  so  many  ages 
of  calamity  and  darkness,  sufficiently  evince  the 
illuminating  and  hallowing  efficacy  of  those  sacred 
oracles  from  which  alone  were  derived  these  admi- 
rable results. 

Ah !  had  Judea  been  destroyed  before  the  diffii- 
sion  of  mankind's  last  hope,  the  Bible,  the  sanctions 
of  duty  had  ceased ;  the  purity  of  worship  had 
ceased ;  the  example  of  the  patriarchs  had  been 
lost ;  the  history  of  the  antediluvian  world  had  been 
lost ;  nay,  the  history  of  creation  itself  had  been 
lost,  and  all  correct  ideas  of  the  great  God  had  per- 
ished ;  and,  unless  restored  by  a  second  revelation, 
had  perished  for  ever.  Not  the  needle  points  the 
eye  of  the  mariner  more  steadily  to  yon  polar  star, 
than  does  the  finger  of  history  the  mind  of  the  mor- 
alist to  the  hill  of  Zion.  The  hill  of  Zion  is,  as  is 
shown  by  every  page  he  reads,  and  by  every  monu- 
ment that  he  inspects,  the  source  and  centre  of  all 
that  is  pure  in  faith  or  sublime  in  morals.  The  rays 
which  enlighten  the  firmament  proceed  not  more 
obviously  from  the  natural  sun,  than  do  those  which 
give  light  to  the  nations  from  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness. 

Thus  far  the  effects  of  the  written  word  in  the 
land  of  the  patriarchs  and  among  the  countrymen 
of  the  prophets. 

But  let  us  take  a  wider  range.  With  the  coming 
of  Messias  (whose  co-ijing  was  ag  the  lightning  of 
heaven)   a  new   era    commenced.      Other   oracles 


ANCIENT   ROME.  257 

were  added  to  those  already  given  ;  God  completed 
Uis  revelations  to  man ;  and  the  Christian  church 
was  made  the  depository  of  the  authenticated  record 
in  which  they  were  imbodied.  Truth  now  quickly 
flashed  across  that  mighty  empire  of  which  Judea 
was  a  province.  More  than  this :  beyond  its  lim- 
its— even  in  the  cold  regions  of  the  North,  hearts 
were  warmed  and  softened,  and  the  distant  islands 
of  the  sea,  in  the  light  of  the  Son  of  Man,  saw  light. 

But  what  was  the  condition  of  these  unbaptized 
nations  when  revealed  truth  was  first  promulged 
among  them  ?     To  begin  at  Rome  : 

Rome  had  succeeded  to  the  arts  and  the  erudition 
of  Greece.  Alas  !  that  we  should  be  compelled  to 
add,  she  had  succeeded  to  her  superstitions  also. 
Over  this  vast  empire — an  empire  where  so  many 
sciences  were  taught,  where  so  much  genius  was 
elicited,  where  so  many  philosophers  reasoned, 
where  so  many  poets  sung — over  this  vast  empire, 
polytheism,  with  all  its  pollutions  and  all  its  cruelties, 
maintained  undisputed  dominion.  A  proof  unan- 
swerable, if  such  proof  were  wanting,  that  the  world 
by  vnsdom  Jmew  not  God. 

These  things  are  not  lightly  said.  Plutarch  af- 
firms, that  on  the  event  of  a  war  in  Gaul,  both  men 
and  women  were  buried  alive,  in  obedience  to  an 
oracle.  Porphyry  states,  that  in  his  own  time  hu- 
man sacrifice  was  offered  at  the  feast  of  Jupiter. 
More  than  this :  in  their  own  blood  the  priests  of 
Bellona  did  homage  to  that  terrific  goddess ;  and 
the  Druids,  who  continued  to  the  reign  of  Tiberius 
and  Claudius  Caesar,  added  torture  to  murder,  some- 


258  ROMAN    FUNERALS. 

times  crucifying  their  victims,  and  at  other  times 
burning  them  alive  upon  the  funeral  pile.* 

But  not  to  the  temple  and  the  altar  were  the  enor- 
mities of  Roman  superstition  confined. 

A  funeral  was  not  solemnized  without  carnage ; 
the  theatre  was  not  attended  without  carnage  ;  nay, 
in  process  of  time,  all  Italy,  and  the  empire  itself, 
were  filled  with  carnage  and  steeped  in  blood. 

That  the  dead  required  the  same  accommodation 
and  attendance  as  the  living  was  one  of  the  absurd- 
ities of  ancient  paganism.  When  a  distinguished 
citizen  died,  wine  and  food  were  buried  with  him  for 
his  sustenance  ;  and  his  wives  and  slaves  were  mas- 
sacred to  attend  upon  his  manes.  Besides  these, 
one  friend  presented  his  servant,  another  his  wife, 
and  a  third  his  son  or  daughter,  as  a  token  of  respect 
to  the  deceased,  and  to  swell  the  number  of  his  ret- 
inue in  another  world.  All  these  fell  together,  and 
one  grave  received  their  remains. 'f 

This  barbarous  and  most  unnatural  superstition, 
with  the  detestable  practice  founded  on  it,  was  adopt- 
ed by  the  Romans  ;  a  practice  modified,  indeed, 
during  the  latter  periods  of  their  history,  but  so  mod- 
ified as  to  lose  nothing  of  its  cruelty,  since  the  vic- 
tims now  fell  by  their  own  hands,  instead  of  falling, 
as  before,  by  the  hands  of  the  executioner. 

On  this  murderous  practice  another  still  more 
murderous  was  founded  :  that  of  the  gladiatorial 
shows,  which  became  so  general,  and  were  so  de- 

*  Plutarch's  Life  of  Marcellus.    Leland,  part  i.,  chap,  vii 
Tooke,  part  ii.,  chap.  ix.    Ryan,  page  56. 
t  Ryan,  p.  215. 


GLADIATORIAL    SHOWS.  259 

lightful  to  the  Roman  people.  I  say  delightful,  for, 
incredible  as  it  may  appear,  these  furnished  the  fa- 
vourite amusement  of  the  populace,  the  magistrates, 
and  even  of  the  imperial  Caesars.* 

On  a  single  occasion  Julius  presented  before  the 
public  three  hundred  and  twenty  pairs  of  gladiators  ; 
and  at  another  time  a  thousand  pairs  were  exhibited 
by  Trajan.  Even  Titus  solemnized  the  birthday 
of  his  brother  by  a  show,  in  which-  two  thousand 
five  hundred  human  beings  perished  ;  and  the  birth- 
day of  his  father  was  commemorated  by  a  similar 
tragedy.  "  No  wars,"  says  Lipsius,  "  ever  made 
such  havoc  of  mankind  as  these  games  of  pleasure, 
which  sometimes  deprived  Europe  of  twenty  thou- 
sand lives  a  month."  Indeed,  this  passion  for  blood 
became  so  ardent  and  so  universal,  that  not  only 
senators  and  knights,  but  even  women,  turned  gladi- 
ators. 

The  moral  state  of  the  other  heathen  nations  fur- 
nishes no  milder  views  to  soften  the  horrors  of  this 
dismal  picture.  Everj^where  human  limbs  might 
be  seen  bleeding  on  the  altar,  or  human  entrails 
quivering  beneath  the  eye  of  the  haruspex. 

This  is  no  exaggeration.  The  Gauls  offered  hu- 
man sacrifice  ;  the  Thracians  offered  human  sacri- 
fice ;  the  Germans  offered  human  sacrifice  ;  and,  to 
add  no  more,  the  Lithuanians  offered  human  sacri- 
fice, and  imagined  that  they  could  only  please  the 
devil  whom  they  worshipped  by  torturing  their  vic- 
tims before  they  killed  them.f 

*  Ryan,  p.  249. 

t  Ross,  Religion  of  aii  Nations,  sect.  v.    Ryan,  p.  59. 


260  THE    ANCIENT    BRITONS, 

How  was  it  in  Britain  1  in  Britain,  where  now  so 
many  alms  are  distributed,  where  so  much  philan- 
thropy is  displayed,  where  so  many  spires  now 
pierce  the  skies,  pointing  the  eye  of  man  to  heaven, 
and  his  hopes  to  immortality — ah !  precious  fruits 
of  the  Christian  dispensation  ! — how  was  it  in  Brit- 
ain before  the  Bible  entered  there  1  Go  to  her  tem- 
ples of  cruelty — to  her  altars  of  blood,  and  ask. 
Ask  of  her  ferocious  priests,  and  of  her  still  more 
ferocious  Druids.  Approach  her  images  sending 
forth  flames,  and  listen  to  the  victims  within  as  they 
shriek  and  expire.  Take  the  dimensions  of  that  do- 
mestic felicity  where  children  are  articles  of  traffic ; 
where  marriage  is  unknown  ;  and  where  whole  clans 
herd  together  like  the  cattle  of  the  stall.* 

That  such  was  the  state  of  Britain  before  the 
Bible  entered  it,  I  appeal  to  Collier,  to  Guildas,  to 
Jerome,  to  Tacitus,  and  to  Csesar.  Great  God  ! 
and  did  we  descend  from  such  parentage  ?  and  are 
these  the  miseries  from  which  the  Bible  has  redeem-* 
ed  us  1  Ah !  Book  of  Life  !  henceforth,  if  I  for- 
get thee,  let  my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning  :  if  I 
do  not  prize  thee  above  my  chiefest  joy,  let  my 
tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth. 

But  enough  of  this  Eastern  polytheism  ;  the  heart 
is  sick  with  contemplating  it.  Let  us  quit  these 
bloodstained  temples,  and  cross  the  ocean.  Per- 
haps in  the  Western  wilds  we  shall  find  some  se- 
questered spot  where  a  purer  faith  is  cherished,  a 
less  sanguinary  worship  maintained.  Alas  !  though 
we  cross  the  ocean,  we  only  change,  we  do  not  es- 

*  Ryan,  p.  251,  252,  253,     Csesar,  De  Bel.  Gal.,  lib.  vi. 


SAVAGE    TRIBES    OF    AMERICA.  261 

cape  the  scene  of  misery.  What  the  Eastern  con- 
tinent was,  the  Western  is,  excepting  only  where  the 
Bible  has  reclaimed  it — covered  with  idolaters.  The 
sun,  and  the  moon,  and  the  stars,  and  not  the  Being 
who  created  them,  receive  the  homage  of  the  wild 
man.  Even  the  infernal  gods,  so  conspicuous  in 
Grecian  fable,  are  here  acknowledged  and  honoured. 
The  natives  of  Canada,  of  Virginia,  and  of  the  Flor- 
idas,  literally  worshipped  the  devil,  to  whom  they 
sacrificed  children  to  quench,  as  they  affirmed,  his 
thirst  in  blood. 

Through  all  the  regions  of  the  North,  false  ideas 
of  God  have  imparted  to  human  nature  a  strange 
ferocity.  The  infant  savage  learns  revenge  from 
the  sacred  rites  of  his  father,  from  the  nightly  ori- 
sons of  his  mother.  Cruelty  grows  with  his  growth, 
and  strengthens  with  his  strength  ;  until,  at  length, 
he  inflicts  torture  as  coolly,  and  drinks  blood  as 
greedily  as  the  imaginary  demons  whom  he  worships. 

As  we  descend  along  the  isthmus  towards  the 
south,  we  discover  monuments  of  art,  but  none  of 
mercy. 

In  New-Spain  the  hearts  of  men  were  offered  to 
the  sun,  and  youths  of  both  sexes  drowned,  to  bear 
this  idol  jcompany.  When  the  corn  first  vegetated, 
young  children  were  slain  to  ensure  its  growth  ;  and 
it  was  afterward  twice  watered  with  the  same  blood 
before  the  harvest.  Here,  too,  the  domestics  of  a 
chief  were  interred  in  the  same  tomb  with  their  mas- 
ter ;  and  the  manes  of  a  prince  were  followed  to  the 
other  world  by  a  still  larger  retinue.* 

*  Ross,  sec.  iii.    Ryan,  p.  200,  216,  222. 


262      MEXICANS  AND  PERUVIANS. 

On  the  event  of  the  King  of  Cholulah's  death,  «^ 
human  heart,  riven  from  some  Hving  bosom,  was  by 
the  high-priest  offered  to  the  sun  ;  and  for  the  or- 
dinary sacrifices  of  this  place  alone,  and  for  a  sin- 
gle year,  five  thousand  children  were  deemed  in- 
sufficient.* 

Mexico  presents  a  siill  more  bloody  spectacle. 
Here  every  captive,  without  exception,  was  sacri- 
ficed. New  wars  were  undertaken  to  obtain  new 
victims  ;  and  in  a  time  of  peace,  their  gods  were 
said  to  be  perishing  with  hunger.  As  late  as  1486, 
sixty-four  thousand  and  eighty  human  beings  were 
sacrificed  by  Ahuitzol,  king  of  Mexico  ;  and  the  or- 
dinary victims  of  the  altar  cost  the  empire  twenty 
thousand  lives  a  year.'f 

Even  the  Peruvians,  the  mild  and  amiable  Peru- 
vians, sacrificed  the  subject  for  the  health  of  the  sov- 
ereign while  living,  and,  when  dead,  an  ample  retinue 
was  supplied  to  attend  upon  his  manes.  Their 
children  they  off*ered  up  to  the  ghosts  of  departed 
kindred,  and  often  the  son  was  slain  to  procure  a 
respite  from  death  for  the  father.  J 


*  Acosta's  Hist.  Tnd.,  book  v.,  chap.  xx.     Ryan,  p.  256. 

t  At  the  feast  of  Quitzalcoult,  the  heart  of  a  slave  was  pre 
sented  by  the  merchants  of  Mexico  to  that  idol ;  and  ten  to  the 
same  idol  at  Cholulah.  And,  as  if  this  were  not  enough  of  cru 
elty,  they  added  the  ceremony  of  drawing  blood  from  their  own 
tongues  and  ears  :  a  ceremony  surpassed  in  madness  only  by 
that  of  the  kings  of  Malabar,  at  the  jubilee  of  the  twelfth  year; 
which  jubilee  the  sovereign  commenced  by  cutting  off  his  nose, 
ears,  and  lips,  and  closed  hy  cutting  his  throat  in  honour  of  the 
devil.  Ross,  sec.  3.  Robertson's  America,  book  vii,  Raynal, 
vol.  il,  book  ii.  Ryan,  p.  220,  221,  223.  Broughton,  art.  Quit- 
Ealcouit,     Acosta's  Hist.  Ind.,  book  v.,  chap.  ix.    Ryan,  p.  255 

t  Ryan,  p.  226.     Robertson,  book  vii.     Ross,  sec.  3. 


EFFECTS    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  263 

But  we  have  proceeded  far  enough — perhaps  too 
far  already,  and  yet  but  a  ghmpse  of  this  abomina- 
tion of  desolation  has  been  taken.  Other,  and  still 
other,  and  other  riles,  both  of  licentiousness  and  of 
blood,  remain  untold,  which  deserve  yet  severer  ex- 
ecration, and  which  could  be  mentioned  only  in  ac- 
cents of  deepest-toned  horror.  I  might  conduct  you 
to  the  temple  in  which — but  I  forbear.  As  has  been 
already  said,  let  the  veil  rest  on  these  enormities. 

And  now,  over  what  a  wilderness  of  crime  and 
folly  we  have  travelled  :  a  wilderness  which,  for  cen- 
turies, revelation  has,  step  by  step,  been  penetrating. 
And  what  have  been  its  effects  1  It  has  everywhere 
shed  the  light  of  truth  on  the  temple  and  the  altar ; 
and  along  its  whole  line  of  march  has  left  its  sacred 
impress  on  the  moral  map  of  nations. 

Never  were  materials  more  stubborn  and  refrac- 
tory than  were  those  on  which,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Christian  era,  revelation  was  called  to 
operate.  But  these  materials,  hard  and  unyielding 
as  they  were,  it  melted,  it  refined,  it  remoulded.  The 
temper,  the  manners,  the  habits,  the  pursuits,  the  in- 
stitutions— nay,  the  very  texture  of  society,  waa 
changed  in  every  city,  and  province,  and  kingdom 
into  which  the  Bible  entered. 

It  allayed  the  thirst  for  conquest ;  it  diminished 
the  carnage  of  conflict ;  it  infused  a  milder  spirit  into 
the  law  of  nations.  Extermination  was  no  longer 
identified  with  victory ;  the  vanquished  were  ac- 
knowledged to  have  rights,  and  these  were  respect- 
ed ;  nor  were  prisoners  of  war  thenceforth  subjected 
to  the  dire  alternative  of  massacre  or  vassalage. 


264  EFFECTS    OP    CHRISTIANITY. 

Ancient  slavery  it  abolished ;  modem  slavery  it 
is  fast  abolishing  ;  and  the  trade  itself — that  accursed 
traffic  in  the  muscles  and  the  blood  of  man — is  ver- 
ging to  its  close,  and  will,  ere  long,  cease  to  be  the 
reproach  of  Christendom. 

By  one  wise  statute  it  terminated  polygamy,  with 
its  broils  and  its  vigils ;  and  suddenly  the  chains 
fell  from  the  mother  and  the  daughter,  and  half  the 
species  emerged  from  the  vilest  degradation.  By 
another,  it  put  an  end  to  the  exposure  of  children, 
their  desertion  by  parents,  and  the  abandonment  of 
the  poor  in  their  hovels  of  wretchedness  and  want, 
and  on  their  beds  of  sickness  and  death.  No  soon- 
er had  the  gospel  law  of  charity  touched  the  heart, 
than  mercy  flowed  from  it.  The  members  of  the 
infant  church,  though  few  in  numbers,  everywhere 
stood  forth  the  defenders  of  orphanage,  the  relievers 
of  want,  the  moral  heroes  and  the  almoners  of  na- 
tions. 

It  banished  those  gladiatorial  shows  which  had 
so  long  piled  the  theatre  with  carcasses  ;  those  hu- 
man sacrifices  which  had  so  long  defiled  the  temple 
with  blood.  It  banished,  too,  the  worship  of  de- 
mons ;  the  worship  of  heroes  and  of  harlots,  of  im* 
ages  and  of  shrines. 

No  victims  now  bleed  (with  thankful  exultation 
be  it  spoken) — no  victims  now  bleed  on  European 
altars  ;  no  widows  now  burn  on  European  pyres. 
The  oracles  which  required  such  sacrifices  are  hush- 
ed ;  the  altars  on  which  they  were  offered,  and  the 
gods  they  were  intended  to  propitiate,  have  sunk  to- 
gether in  the  dust,  and  the  spiritual  worship  of  the 
unseen  Jehovah  occupies  their  place. 


EFFECTS    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  265 

The  mummery  of  the  haruspex  has  ceased  ;  the 
mummery  of  the  magician  has  ceased  ;  the  games, 
the  festivals,  the  vigils,  the  lustrums,  all  have  ceased. 
The  entire  machinery  of  the  altar  and  the  temple, 
the  oracle  and  the  response,  the  groves  and  the  high 
places ;  the  whole  of  that  gigantic  and  tremendous 
fabric  which  fraud,  and  folly,  and  superstition,  and 
cruelty  had  for  ages  been  rearing,  at  the  approach 
of  the  Bible,  as  if  struck  by  the  lightning  of  Omnip- 
otence, fell  to  the  dust,  and  has  been  swept  by  the 
breath  of  Heaven  from  the  face  of  Europe.  On  the 
very  site^f  these  abominations,  schools  of  education, 
asylums  of  mercy,  and  temples  of  grace  suddenly 
arose  ;  and  these  have  everywhere  been  the  results 
of  the  Gospel  dispensation  :  proud  monuments,  an- 
nouncing in  every  part  of  Christendom  that  the 
reign  of  demons  is  past^  and  the  kingdom  of  JMessias 
come. 

What  a  comment  is  this  upon  that  song  of  the  an- 
gels which  burst  on  the  listening  shepherds  on  the 
night  of  the  Saviour's  advent  :  Behold,  I  bring  you 
glad  tidings  of  great  joy  ivhich  shall  be  unto  all  peo- 
ple ;  for  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of  Da- 
vid a  Saviour,  ivho  is  Christ  the  Lord, 

Glad  tidings  indeed  they  were,  and  to  all  peo- 
ple ;  for,  far  as  their  annunciation  has  reached,  the 
state  of  things  has  been  changed.  With  every  en- 
largement of  the  church's  limits,  the  boundaries  of 
the  field  of  moral  beauty  have  been  extended.  Ex- 
amples of  piety  and  patience,  of  charity  and  fortitude, 
have  been  multiplied.  The  character  of  man  has 
assumed  a  new  majesty  ;  for  his  soul,  loosed  from 


S66  EFFECTS    OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

the  bonds  which  once  confined  it,  and  the  alliances 
by  which  it  was  degraded,  has  become  animated  by 
a  heaven-directed  principle,  progressive  in  its  na- 
ture, which,  advancing  in  the  track  by  Emanuel 
pointed  out,  has  so  raised  Christian  nations  above 
the  level  of  the  rest  of  the  species,  that  they  seem 
as  though  descended  from  a  different  ancestry,  and 
belonging  to  a  nobler  race. 

As  many  centuries  have  shed  their  influence  on 
Asia  and  Africa  since  the  commencement  of  the 
Christian  era  as  on  Europe.  When  revelation  was 
first  promulgated  in  the  West,  Europe,  in.  a  moral 
view,  was  no  less  degraded  than  Asia — perhaps  we 
might  say,  than  Africa  itself.  How  happens  it, 
then,  that  while  in  Europe  human  nature  has  been 
progressive,  and  the  march  of  mind  has  advanced 
with  the  rapidity  of  hghtning,  in  Asia  and  in  Africa  it 
has  remained  stationary ;  or,  if  there  has  been  any 
movement,  that  it  has  been  only  retrograde  1  How 
happens  it  that,  even  at  this  late  day,  the  grossest 
idolatry  and  the  r;\ost  cruel  superstition  pervade  those 
entire  regions  where  revelation  has  not  yet  penetra- 
ted ;  that  the  whole  mass  of  pagan  population,  the 
uncounted  millions  of  the  East  and  of  the  South,  of 
the  continents  and  of  the  isles,  still  grope  in  the 
profoundest  darkness ;  still  grovel  in  the  most  bru- 
tal degradation  ? 

What  is  it  that  has  elevated  the  Gaul,  the  Belgi- 
an, the  German,  and  the  Briton ;  that  has  given  a 
generous  impulse  to  the  Dane  and  the  Swede,  and 
raised  the  Russian,  even  amid  his  snow-clad  for- 
ests, so  much  above  the  wandering  Tartar,  who  re* 


EFFECTS    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  267 

moves  his  gods  as  he  does  his  flocks ;  or  the  un- 
happy negro,  who  worships  the  very  vermin,  and 
even  the  trees  which  grow  upon  his  native  hills  of 
Africa  ? 

There  is  but  one  answer.  The  whole  world 
knows  that  it  is  the  Bible  only  which  has  done  this. 
The  line  which  separates  the  light  and  shade  in  an 
eclipse  is  not  more  distinctly  drawn  on  the  disk  of 
the  sun,  than  is  the  line  which  separates  Christian- 
ity from  paganism  on  the  map  of  nations. 

In  the  light  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  Chris- 
tendom enjoys  light ;  while  the  rest  of  the  earth  is 
as  one  vast  Valley  of  Hinnom,  over  which  a  dark- 
ness broods  that  is  all  but  tangible.  The  very  race 
is  degraded  ;  and  the  sons  of  God,  ignorant  of  their 
origin  and  regardless  of  their  destination,  bow  down 
to  the  earth  and  lick  the  dust. 

If  the  view  of  the  world  here  taken  be  correct  (and 
where  is  the  evidence  that  it  is  not  so  ?),  apart  from 
those  nations  which  the  Bible  has  reclaimed,  is  there 
a  single  exception  to  this  moral  degradation  ?  Not 
to  speak  of  empires,  or  even  provinces,  is  there  a 
town,  or  village,  or  hamlet — nay,  is  there  a  family 
on  which  no  ray  of  revealed  truth  has  fallen,  that 
retains  the  knowledge  of  God,  that  cherishes  a  ra- 
tional faith,  and  offers  to  the  Ruler  of  the  universe 
a  spiritual  homage  ?  I  know  not  of  such  a  family  : 
the  civilized  world  is  ignorant  of  such  a  family.  If 
it  exists,  its  residence  is  in  some  sequestered  spot 
to  which  no  traveller  has  yet  penetrated  ;  its  history 
is  written  in  a  language  which  no  philologist  has  yet 
read.     Beyond  a  doubt  there  is  no  such  family ; 


268  THE    BIBLE. 

and  if  there  be  not,  then  the  view  we  have  taken  is 
correct ;  and,  being  correct,  the  proposition  with 
which  we  commenced  this  discourse  is  fully  estab- 
lished :  That  whatever  of  benignity  of  manners^ 
whatever  of  elevatio7i  of  character,  ivhatever  of 
sublimity  of  morals  or  purity  of  faith  tliis  world  ex- 
hibits, is  oiving  to  the  Bible. 

From  whencesoever  these  oracles  were  derived, 
the  present  state  of  the  world — nay,  the  history  of 
its  condition  in  all  past  ages,  clearly  evinces,  that 
they,  and  they  alone,  have  power  to  sanctify  on 
earth  or  qualify  for  heaven.  And,  though  no  retrib- 
utive justice  awaited  the  guilty,  if  mankind  are  to 
exist  after  death,  and  in  circumstances  at  all  corre- 
spondent to  their  earthly  tempers  and  habitudes,  then 
must  the  future  condition  of  the  Christian  transcend 
that  of  the  Mexican  or  of  the  Hindu,  as  much  as 
the  exquisite  touches  of  St.  John,  in  his  portraiture 
of  the  New  Jerusalem,  transcend  the  coarse  daub- 
ings  of  the  false  prophet  on  those  pages  of  the  Ko- 
ran which  he  defiles  with  his  gross  picture  of  the 
Mussulman's  paradise,  devoted  to  licentiousness,  and 
crowded  with  harlots. 

The  Bible  is  the  world's  first,  last,  best,  and  only 
hope.  Much  it  has  accomplished  already,  but  much 
more  remains  to  be  yet  accomplished  by  it. 

Idolatry,  with  its  impious,  cruel,  and  lascivious 
rites,  has  been  banished  from  the  civilized  states  of 
Europe,  and  from  all  the  settled  portions  of  the  Can- 
adas  and  the  United  States.  Even  the  Mexican 
temples,  those  Golgothas  that  swallowed  up  such 
multitudes,  are  demolished  in  the  valleys  ;  but  blood, 


PRESENT    HEATHEN    ABOMINATIONS.       269 

ay,  human  blood,  even  now  trickles  from  the  cliffs 
where  those  idol  temples  still  stand  among,  the 
mountains  of  the  South.  In  the  forests  of  the 
West  and  of  the  North  the  worship  of  the  devil  is 
still  maintained  ;  and  Africa,  India,  Thibet,  Tartary, 
and  the  millions  of  China,  to  say  nothing  of  the  isl- 
ands of  the  sea,  what  is  their  condition  ? 

Ah !  could  I  transport  you  to  those  regions  of  dark- 
ness ;  or,  seizing  the  painter's  pencil,  could  I  but 
sketch  a  faint  outline  of  the  scenes  of  horror  there 
acted ;  could  I  show  you,  at  Calcutta,  the  son  apply- 
ing, with  not  even  an  averted  eye,  the  lighted  torch 
to  the  funeral  pile  of  his  living  mother  :  at  Giagas, 
the  mother  pounding  her  infant  ih.  a  mortar,  and 
smearing  her  body  with  the  horrid  ointment,  to  pro- 
pitiate the  demons  that  ride  upon  the  wind,  and 
shriek  for  the  blood  of  children  in  the  tempest : 
could  I  show  you,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges, 
the  father  struggling  to  force  into  its  depths  his  little 
son,  still  raising  his  supplicating  eyes,  and  still  cling- 
ing to  the  marble  bosom  of  his  parent — ah  !  hapless 
boy !  in  pagan  hearts  nature  has  left  her  seat,  nor 
can  the  note  even  of  filial  anguish  excite  one  pulsa- 
tion of  compassion  there  :  could  I  show  you,  at  Su- 
matra, the  son  whetting  his  knife,  and  adjusting  his 
festive  board  beneath  the  shadow  of  some  death- 
boding  tree,  at  the  foot  of  which  a  decrepit  father, 
shaken  from  its  top,  is  about  to  be  devoured  by  his 
assembled  children,  who,  as  their  sire  descends,  join 
in  this  precomposed  chorus,  "  The  fruit  is  ripe  and 
must  be  eaten :"  could  I  show  you,  at  Juggernaut, 
the  wretches  crushed  beneath  the  car  of  that  dread 


270   PRESENT  HEATHEN  ABOMINATIONS. 

Moloch ;  or  at  the  feast  of  Ganga,  that  terrific  queen 
riding  amid  her  quaking  worshippers,  with  many  a 
living  victim  literally  spiked  to  her  triumphal  seat : 
could  I  show  you,  at  Pekin,  the  infants  whose 
brains  bestrew  the  streets,  and  whose  unburied  bod- 
ies choke  the  very  gutters ;  in  the  numerous  cities 
of  populous  India,  the  poor  that  crowd  the  pathway 
of  the  traveller,  in  vain  supplicating  mercy,  and  trod- 
den down  as  if  they  were  dying  weeds  instead  of 
dying  men* — ah!  could  I  show  you  these  things, 
my  purpose  would  be  accomplished.  You  would 
pour  out  your  wealth  in  alms :  more  than  this,  you 
would  pour  out  your  hearts  in  prayer,  giving  God 
no  rest  until  he  establish  and  make  Jerusalem  a 
praise  in  the  earth. 

Even  though  there  were  no  day  of  judgment — no 
hereafter — and  heaven,  and  hell,  and  eternity  were 
chimeras,  still  reason,  humanity,  every  motive  that 
can  touch  an  enlightened  and  ingenuous  mind,  should 
impel  us  to  send  to  these  benighted  pagans  the 
Bible,  that  we  may  rescue  them  from  the  bondage 
under  which  they  groan,  and  terminate  the  miseries 
they  suffer.  But,  great  God  !  if  there  be  an  here- 
after, if  there  be  a  day  of  judgment,  and  if  heaven^ 
and  hell,  and  eternity  be  not  chimeras,  but  reality — 
here  my  tongue  falters,  my  heart  overflows,  and 
thoughts  press  upon  me  too  solemn  and  too  big  for 
utterance. 

On  other  occasions  of  charity  I  have  wept,  I  have 

*  Mod.  Univer.  Hist.,  fol.,  vol.  vi.,  chap.  xiv.  Ryan,  p.  214, 
219.  Buchanan,  Res.,  p.  144,  145.  Broughton,  Art.  Ganga 
Gramma.    Quar.  Review  of  Baptist  Mission. 


SIGNS    OF    THE    TIMES.  271 

entreated.  On  this  I  can  do  neither.  The  subject 
is  too  awful  for  tears,  too  authoritative  for  entreaty : 
and  if  its  own  inherent  claims,  its  own  tremendous 
importance  does  not  interest,  does  not  overwhelm 
you,  nothing  can.  Tears  would  be  vain,  entreaties 
vain.  I  should  tremble  less  for  the  poor  pagans 
whose  cause  I  advocate,  than  for  the  petrified  audi- 
ence— the  hearts  of  stone  which  I  address.  For 
then,  oh  !  thou  Avenger  of  abused  mercies,  it  would 
be  manifest  that  we  had  been  enlightened  by  thy 
gospel,  and  tasted  thy  rich  grace  for  naught. 

The  signs  of  the  times  indicate  that  the  chariot- 
wheels  of  the  Son  of  God  are  approaching.  It  is 
rumoured  among  the  nations  that  the  Bridegroom 
Cometh.  Millions  of  supine  Christians  have  sud- 
denly awoke  from  their  slumbers.  The  church  has 
arisen,  and  is  girding  herself,  that  she  may  hasten  to 
prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord,  and  make  his  paths 
straight.  No  matter  in  what  region  we  reside,  nor 
whether  the  first  object  of  our  compassion  be  Jew 
or  Christian,  Mohammedan  or  pagan.  The  cause 
is  one,  the  object  is  universal.  It  is  the  union  of 
the  redeemed  of  all  nations,  rising  in  the  strength 
of  their  Lord  and  Saviour,  to  extend  the  limits  of 
his  reign,  and  multiply  the  subjects  of  his  mercy. 

Those  missionary  invaders  of  the  kingdom  of 
darkness  whom  the  benevolence  of  Christendom  is 
sending  forth,  not,  like  the  promulgators  of  the  Ko- 
ran, clad  in  armour,  rely  on  the  omnipotence  of  truth 
and  of  the  Spirit  alone  for  success.  Their  weapon 
is  the  incorruptible  word  :  at  once  the  symbol  and 
the  seal  of  peace,  which  they  carry  with  them  to  the 
nations. 


272  A  NEW   ERA    COMMENCED. 

Already,  since  this  great  effort  began,  has  the  cov* 
enant  of  mercy  passed  by  translation  into  many  a 
pagan  tongue,  and  to  many  a  worshipper  of  idols 
has  it  been  distributed. 

These  achievements  mark  the  commencement  of 
a  new  era ;  and  if  the  first  beams  of  the  millennial 
morning  fall  so  benignly  on  the  borders  of  the  wil- 
derness, how  resplendent  will  be  the  7ioonday  glory, 
when  those  entire  benighted  regions  shall  be  re- 
claimed to  virtue  and  flooded  with  light !  Ah ! 
thou  church  of  the  living  God,  cherish  the  spirit 
which  at  length  inspires  thee.  Let  no  expenditure 
exhaust  thy  bounty  ;  no  divisions  damp  thy  ardour. 
Still  multiply  and  send  abroad  impressions  of  this 
life-giving  record,  till  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and 
tongue,  and  people  are  supplied,  and  the  whole  earth 
is  filled  with  the  salvation  of  God. 

But  what  can  we  do  to  help  forward  this  vast, 
this  gigantic  undertaking  ?  What  ?  As  much,  at 
least,  as  did  that  poor  widow  who  cast  her  willing 
mite  into  the  Gospel  treasury. 

Every  drop  of  water  that  distils  from  the  distant 
mountain  top,  mingles  with  some  rivulet  which  de- 
scends to  swell  the  deep  and  broad  river  that  rolls 
its  mighty  mass  into  the  ocean.  So  every  copy  of 
the  Word  of  God,  whether  written  out  with  the  pen 
or  struck  from  the  press,  causes  that  hallowed  stream 
to  flow  in  a  wider  channel  and  with  a  more  resist- 
less force,  whose  waters  are  destined  to  heal  the 
city  and  the  country,  and  to  make  even  the  desert 
blossom  like  the  rose.  And  how  cheering  the 
thought,  that   the  very  volumes   purchased   by  oui 


DISTRIBUTION  OF  THE  BIBLE    AT  HOME.  £73 

money  or  distributed  by  our  hands  may  chance  to 
fall,  like  the  dews  of  Lebanon,  on  some  barren  spot 
in  God's  moral  husbandry,  and  convert  it  into  a  spot 
of  fruitfulness  and  verdure. 

Let  us,  then,  cherish  the  spirit  and  emulate  the 
example  of  our  brethren  in  the  East.  Let  us  be- 
sto\^  our  property  as  cheerfully,  and  bend  our  exer- 
tions as  steadily  to  the  advancement  of  the  glorious 
enterprise  in  which,  with  them,  we  are  engaged. 
Let  us  strive  to  erect  a  monument  to  the  Redeemer 
of  mankind  on  this  side  the  ocean,  no  less  sublime 
than  has  been  erected  by  his  disciples  on  the  other ; 
nor  leave  to  the  seagirt  isle  alone  the  expense  and 
honour  of  sending  the  Gospel  to  all  nations. 

Let  us,  at  least,  endeavour,  by  a  more  general 
distribution  of  these  heaven-descended  records,  to 
console  our  own  mourners,  to  prepare  our  youth 
for  living,  and  our  aged  for  death.  Let  us  endeav- 
our to  purify  our  towns  ;  to  purify  our  villages ;  to 
raise  the  standard  of  our  public  morals,  and  exalt 
still  higher  our  national  character.  In  a  word,  let 
us  endeavour  completely  to  Christianize  these  Uni- 
ted States,  that  the  condition  of  our  citizens  may 
be  more  blessed  on  earth,  and  our  whole  population 
made  meet  for  an  inheritance  in  heaven. 

What  a  lofty  hope  \  and  how  welcome  to  the 
bosom  of  the  patriot  Christian !  And  shall  we,  hav- 
ing tasted  the  preciousness  of  this  hope,  lightly  re- 
linquish it?  Ah!  no.  Necessity  is  laid  upon  us. 
We  have  sworn,  and  may  not  repent ;  we  have  lift- 
ed up  our  hand  to  God,  and  cannot  go  back.  And 
let  the  thought  animate  us,  that,  by  supplying  our 


274      CONCLUDING  EXHORTATION. 

own  destitute  brethren,  we  are  indirectly  aiding  to 
supply  the  destitute  pagans.  Yes,  every  Bible  we 
distribute  here  is,  in  effect,  a  Bible  distributed  in  Ara- 
bia, in  Egypt,  in  India,  or  in  the  islands  of  the  sea  ; 
for  every  Bible  we  distribute  here  spares  the  price 
of  it  from  the  common  fund  of  Christendom,  and 
leaves  the  same  to  be  expended  in  some  heathen 
country. 

Let  us,  then,  freely  put  forth  our  exertions  and 
bestow  our  charities  ;  and,  though  the  morning  dawn 
not,  let  us  go  forward  confidently  to  our  work,  re- 
membering who  it  was  that  said.  Surely  I  come 
quickly.     Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus. 


man's  moral  state  contingent.     275 


XV. 

A.DDRESS   DELIVERED   BEFORE    THE    PHI   BETA   KAPPA  SO- 
CIETY   OF   UNION   COLLEGE. 

[Difference  in  the  Intellectual  and  Moral  Condition  of  Individ- 
uals and  Nations. — Ignorance  and  Knowledge  the  principal 
Causes  of  this  Difference. — Advantages  of  Associated  Efforts 
in  promoting  Science. — Intelligence  and  Happiness  capable 
of  being  vastly  extended. — First  crude  Discoveries  in  Sci- 
ence contrasted  with  the  Progress  since  made. — Present  State 
and  future  Prospects  of  Scientific  Research. — Chymistry. — 
Astronomy. — Mineralogy  and  Botany. — Meteorology. — Elec- 
tricity.—  Medicine.  —  Pohtical  Science.  —  Popular  Govern- 
ments.— The  United  States. — Anomaly  of  domestic  Slavery, 
in  its  Origin,  (&;c.,  considered. — Ameliorations  in  our  Institu- 
tions and  Laws  in  regard  to  Debtors — to  Criminals. — Reli- 
gious Freedom. — Multiplicity  of  Religious  Sects  not  incom- 
patible with  Christian  Union. — Science  and  Religion  recipro- 
cally aid  each  other,  and  should  never  be  disunited.] 

Of  other  worlds  than  our  own,  and  other  races 
of  moral  agents  than  ourselves,  our  knowledge  is 
extremely  limited.  These  are  subjects  on  which 
reason  is  silent,  or  speaks  only  in  conjectural  ac- 
cents. Revelation,  even,  gives  but  a  few  brief  no- 
tices of  the  existence  or  habitudes  of  unimbodied 
spirits.  From  these  brief  notices,  however,  it  would 
seem  rather  probable  than  otherwise,  that  the  original 
condition  of  moral  agents  generally  has  not  been 
fixed,  but  contingent ;  and  that  all  have  been  permit- 
ted, under  God,  to  weave  the  web  of  their  own  des- 
tiny, and  severally  to  form,  by  a  series  of  individual 
actions,  their  ultimate  and  unchanging  character. 

But  whether  this  be  generally  so  or  not,  that  it 
has  been  so  with  terrestrial  moral  agents  is  undeni- 
able :  for,  though  the  elements  of  a  common  nature 


276  POWER    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

are  apparent  in  the  entire  posterity  of  Adam,  those 
elements  have  been  so  modified  by  circumstances, 
so  transformed  by  education,  as  to  present  the  ex- 
tremes of  vice  and  virtue,  of  dignity  and  meanness 
in  the  human  character.  Nations  there  are  whose 
march  for  ages  has  been  onward  and  upward  ;  and 
other  nations,  again,  who  have  either  remained  sta- 
tionary, or  whose  movement  has  been  retrograde- 
Individuals  too  there  are  who  seem  approximating 
towards  the  perfection  of  angels  ;  while  other  indi- 
viduals are  degraded  almost  to  the  condition  of 
brutes,  or  even  of  demons. 

Various  and  inscrutable  as  may  be  the  causes 
which  have  contributed  to  these  opposite  results,  it 
is  sufficiently  apparent  that  ignorance  is  wholly  in- 
compatible with  improvement,  and  that  everywhere 
alike  knowledge  is  power.  Were  God,  even,  not 
omniscient,  he  would  not  be  omnipotent ;  or,  if  om- 
nipotent, he  could  not,  as  now,  display  his  glorious 
attributes  in  those  marvellous  phenomena  which  con- 
stitute the  universe,  and  which  stand  forth  as  the 
august  expression  of  his  joint  wisdom  and  of  might. 

It  is  knowledge  which  makes  the  mighty  differ- 
ence between  man  and  brute — between  man  and 
man.  The  unlettered  savage  of  the  forest  is  more 
muscular  and  fleet  than  the  polished  premier  who 
wields  a  nation's  energies,  and  from  his  closet  sends 
forth  a  controlling  influence  over  realms  he  has  not 
so  much  as  visited. 

It  was  knowledge  which  gave,  and  it  is  knowl- 
edge which  upholds  the  dominion  of  man  over  so 
many  orders  of  beings,  superior  to  him  in  numbers 


SCIENTIFIC    ASSOCIATIONS.  277 

as  well  as  in  agility  and  strength  :  a  dominion  ex* 
tending  with  every  extension  of  science,  not  only 
over  animals,  but  over  the  elements,  and  bringing 
Nature  herself  into  greater  and  greater  subjection. 

But  the  duration  of  human  life  is  too  short,  and 
Ihe  range  of  individual  observation  too  narrow  for 
the  acquisition  of  that  profound  knowledge,  and  the 
arrival  at  those  grand  results,  for  which  faculties,  in 
their  nature  progressive  and  immortal,  had  otherwise 
qualified  their  possessor.  To  remedy,  therefore,  the 
defects  which  necessarily  spring  from  the  brevity  of 
human  life  and  the  locality  of  human  residence,  and 
to  prevent  the  loss  of  triumphs  actually  achieved,  a 
moral  organization  has  been  resorted  to,  and  isolated 
individuals,  distant  from  each  other,  have  united 
themselves  into  societies,  supplying  the  want  of  per- 
gonal ubiquity  by  the  distribution  of  their  members, 
and  of  immortality  by  their  continued  succession. 
By  such  organization  remote  and  scattered  agencies 
have  been  combined,  and  the  wise  and  good  of  dif- 
ferent nations  and  ages,  who  otherwise,  perhaps,  as 
to  any  permanent  effect,  might  have  lived  in  vain, 
have  become  fellow-labourers  with  one  another  ;  nor 
is  it  too  much  to  say,  fellow-labourers  with  God,  in 
carrying  forward  his  grand  and  beneficent  designs. 

As  an  integral  portion  of  such  an  association — an 
association  whose  aim  it  is  to  increase  human  knowl- 
edge and  perfect  human  virtue,  which  has  extended 
its  ligaments  across  the  ocean,  and  the  influence  of 
which  is  felt  in  both  hemispheres — as  an  integral 
portion  of  such  an  association  I  now  address  the 
members  of  this  society. 


278        DIFFERENT    STATES    OF    MANKIND. 

Without  indulging  in  Utopian  dreams,  and  mindful 
of  the  nature  of  man,  as  seen  in  the  light  which  rev- 
elation and  experience  have  shed  upon  his  history ; 
without  pretending  to  have  ascertained  the  precise 
measure  of  intelligence  or  happiness  possible  to  be 
attained  by  beings  so  constituted  and  so  situated,  it 
is  surely  neither  presumptuous  nor  unphilosophical 
to  anticipate  the  future  existence  of  both  these  attri- 
butes through  a  greater  extent  and  in  a  higher  de- 
gree than  they  have  hitherto  existed.  Nor  can  it  be 
derogatory  to  scholars  or  statesmen  to  embrace  this 
cheering  hypothesis,  and  to  combine  their  influence 
to  secure  to  future  generations  its  blessed  reality. 

In  glancing  even  casually  over  the  map  of  na- 
tions, it  is  impossible  not  to  perceive  that  there  is  a 
striking  difference  in  regard  to  everything  which  ren- 
ders being  valuable  between  the  different  branches 
of  the  human  family.  Neither  man  himself,  nor  his 
condition  in  enlightened  Europe  and  America,  can 
be  contrasted  with  what  they  are  in  benighted  Asia, 
or  still  more  benighted  Africa,  without  mingled  emo- 
tions of  exultation  and  pity. 

But  were  it  even  the  case  that,  in  the  former  and 
more  favoured  states,  human  nature  had  received 
its  highest  finish,  and  human  intellect  put  forth  its 
utmost  energy,  most  powerful  motives  would  still 
exist  to  preserve  and  perpetuate  among  civilized  na- 
tions the  triumphs  already  achieved  ;  and  to  rouse 
their  barbarous  neighbours  to  the  achievement  of 
similar  triumphs,  that  the  entire  race  might  be  raised 
to  the  highest  standard  of  merit,  and  share  the  largest 
measure  of  happiness. 


INTELLECTUAL   ELEVATION    OF    jlIAN.       279 

Nor  will,  nor  ought  the  friends  of  science  to  re- 
mit their  exertions  until  this  shall  have  been  accom- 
plished ;  until  the  most  degraded  of  the  tribes  of 
earth  shall  have  become  regenerate,  and  shall  stand 
forth  each  one  in  the  glories  of  its  own  Augustan 
age  ;  until  the  hills  and  valleys,  the  lakes  and  rivers 
of  other  states,  as  well  as  of  Greece,  shall  have  been 
consecrated  by  the  slumbering  genius  that  remains 
in  each  to  be  yet  awakened  ;  until  Attic  wit  and  Athe- 
nian models  shall  everywhere  appear ;  until  JVegro- 
land  shall  have  produced  her  own  Granville  Sharp, 
Abyssinia  her  Milton,  Thibet  her  Homer,  and  the 
wandering  Tartar's  reed  shall  sound  a  note  as  tender 
as  the  shepherd's  pipe,  when,  in  olden  time  and  in 
classic  fields,  the  Arcadian  Corydon  and  Thyrsis 
sung  ;  until  all  that  is  gross,  and  vulgar,  and  revolt- 
ing shall  disappear,  and  not  cities  and  provinces 
merely,  or  even  empires,  but  the  entire  world  shall 
exhibit  through  all  its  territories  whatever  is  tasteful 
in  art,  recondite  in  science,  or  enchanting  in  elo- 
quence and  song. 

True,  we  cannot  reach  directly  the  distant  and 
scattered  elements  of  ignorance  and  degradation, 
nor  can  we  bring  our  influence  immediately  to  bear 
on  the  process  of  their  transformation.  Still  we 
may  do  both  indirectly  and  remotely. 

JEvery  collegiate  institution,  with  its  associate 
alumni,  is  the  source  and  centre  of  a  mighty  influ- 
ence, which  is  sent  abroad,  not  only  over  the  scien- 
tific, but  the  unlettered  public — an  influence  which 
reaches  in  its  course  every  academy  and  school,  and 
even  every  habitation — inspiring  genius,  stimulating 


280  INFANCY    OF    SCIENCE. 

enterprise,  and  supplying  motives  and  means  through 
many  a  town  and  hamlet  for  assaiUng  ignorance, 
vindicating  truth,  and  extending  the  empire  of  learn- 
ing and  refinement.  So  that  the  measures  we  are 
adopting,  and  the  strength  we  are  putting  forth,  may, 
after  acting  on  successive  individuals,  reach  to  re- 
mote places,  descend  to  future  generations,  and 
finally  be  felt  to  the  extremities  of  the  world. 

Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves  as  to  the  amount, 
either  of  good  or  evil,  which  may  be  produced  by  a 
single  scholar,  especially  by  a  society  of  scholars. 
It  is  wholly  impossible  to  measure  the  power,  to 
trace  the  connexions,  or  to  fix  the  Hmits,  either  in 
duration  or  extent,  of  moral  causes. 

To  the  laboratory  of  Tubal-Cain,  Europe  and 
America  may  be  indebted  for  their  chymistry ;  to 
the  harp  and  organ  of  Jubal  for  their  instruments  of 
music  ;  to  Noah  for  their  navigation,  and  to  Belus 
for  the  art  of  masonry.  To  the  astrologers  of 
Egypt  or  the  shepherds  of  Shinar,  mankind  may  re- 
motely owe  the  calculations  of  La  Place — nay,  even 
the  . astronomy  of  Newton.  But  for  the  signs  of 
the  zodiac  and  other  sidereal  localities,  so  fancifully 
sketched  by  the  first  eager  observers,  the  eye  of 
this  sublime  inquirer  might  never  have  been  direct- 
ed upward,  and  the  whole  energy  of  his  mighty  mind 
might  have  been  wasted,  as  had  been  the  energy  of 
so  many  other  great  minds,  on  essential  forms  and 
occult  qualifies. 

Who  can  tell  how  much  Athens  was  indebted  to 
PhoBnician  voyagers,  or  how  long  the  genius  of 
Greece  might  have  slumbered,  but  for  the  alphabet 


THE    SPKEAD    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  28l 

of  Cadmus  ?  or  whether  even  Greece  herself,  dis- 
membered and  trodden  down  by  her  enemies,  shall 
continue,  as  she  has  done,  to  form  the  taste  of  nations, 
and  to  send  forth  an  influence  to  bear  on  the  moral 
destinies  of  the  world  1  And  since  Greece,  dismem- 
bered and  trodden  down  as  she  is,  still  struggles  for 
existence,  and  science  and  the  arts  have  pervaded 
or  are  pervading  France,  and  Spain,  and  Portugal, 
and  Italy,  and  Germany,  and  Russia,  and  Sweden, 
and  Denmark,  and  Britain,  and  last,  though  not 
least,  the  young  American  republics ;  since  com- 
merce is  furnishing  a  universal  medium  of  inter- 
course, and  the  press  is  everywhere  supplying  facil- 
ities for  instruction,  is  it  extravagant  to  anticipate 
that  a  redeeming  spirit  may,  and  will,  ere  long,  go 
forth  from  civilized  nations  of  sufficient  power  to  ef- 
fect the  wished-for  deliverance  of  nations  still  in  a 
state  of  barbarism  1 

This  were  a  truly  sublime  achievement :  though 
exertion  here  ceased  and  progression  here  terrnina- 
ted,  thi?  were  a  triumph  possessing  enough  of  good- 
ness and  of  grandeur  to  stay  the  eye  of  hope  and 
to  stimulate  the  eagerness  of  enterprise. 

But  is  there  anything,  either  in  the  nature  of  man 
or  in  the  history  of  the  world,  which  favours  the 
opinion  that  all  which  is  attainable  has  been  attain- 
ed, even  by  educated  nations  1  and  that,  to  them, 
nothing  remains  but  to  retrace  the  circle  already 
traced,  by  the  landmarks  planted  by  the  pioneers  of 
science  as  they  have  advanced  along  their  adventu- 
rous and  unbeaten  pathway '?  Is  it  to  be  believed 
that  even  schooled  reason  has  so  soon  come  to  know 
Y 


282  MODERN    DISCOVERIES. 

all  of  God  that  is  knovvable,  and  that  the  whole  field 
of  glories  spread  around  him  has  been  so  quickly  and 
so  cheaply  gathered  ?  This  appalling  appreheijsion 
may,  perhaps  sometimes  does,  cross  the  mind  of 
aspiring  youth,  as  their  eye  glances  on  the  heights 
already  gained,  and  the  distance  already  passed  over 
in  the  march  of  science.  But  the  illusion  quickly 
vanishes  ;  for  it  is  perceived  that  everywhere  the 
boundary  recedes  as  the  inquirer  advances  towards 
it,  and  that  discoveries  made,  however  great,  have 
hitherto  only  prepared  the  way  for  discoveries  still 
greater.  The  time  is  yet  distant,  it  is  believed, 
ivJien  nothing  will  be  left  in  religion  to  be  purified ; 
nothing  in  the  remedial  system  to  be  improved  ;  no- 
thing in  political  institutions  to  be  reformed,  and  nO' 
thing  in  the  physical  sciences  to  be  acquired. 

Great,  indeed,  is  the  disparity  between  the  con- 
jectural alchymy  of  the  middle  ages  and  our  pres- 
ent inductive  chymistry,  founded  on  actual  and  ac- 
curate analysis.  The  phenomena  of  light,  and  heat, 
and  electricity,  and  magnetism,  as  well  as  of  bodies 
gross  and  ponderable,  are  now  incalculably  better 
understood  than  they  were  formerly.  Earth,  and 
air,  and  water,  once  regarded  as  uncompounded  el- 
ements, are  now  resolved  and  recombined  at  pleas- 
ure. New  distinctions  have  been  made,  a  classifi- 
cation more  conformable  to  nature  has  been  substi- 
tuted, and  a  nomenclature  more  intelligible  and  sig- 
nificant has  been  introduced.  More  than  this  :  gal- 
vanic electricity  has  been  discovered,  the  alkalis 
have  been  analyzed,  and  the  doctrine  of  chymical 
equivalents  has  been  established. 


FUTURE    DISCOVERIES.  283 

Much,  however,  as  science  owes  to  Berzelius,  to 
Davy,  to  WoUaston,  to  Guy  Lusac,  and  their  coadju- 
tors, shall  we  be  so  weak  as  to  imagine  that  they 
are  the  only  wise  men,  and  that  wisdom  will  die  with 
them  ?  Who  knows  but  that  discoveries  are  now 
making  which  will  cast  a  shade  over  even  theirs, 
admirable  as  they  are?  Who  knows  but  that  some 
bolder  and  more  fortunate  experimenter  is  even  now 
unsettling  doctrines  hitherto  believed  to  be  settled, 
and  is  displacing  by  solution  from  the  rank  they  oc- 
cupy, not  only  potassium  and  sodium,  but  the  entire 
kindred  class  of  metallic  bases  1  Who  knows  but 
that  a  more  condensed  heat  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  crucible,  or  the  electric  stroke  from  some  more 
powerful  battery,  may  not  reveal  to  the  sense  of  man 
still  simpler  elements  and  more  subtile  combina- 
tions, by  which  the  artists  of  future  times  shall  be 
enabled  to  approximate,  in  their  humble  imitations, 
nearer  to  those  matchless  fabrics  which  God  pro- 
duces in  his  vast  laboratory  ?  Nor  will  analysis  have 
reached  its  utmost  limits  until  all  the  elements  which 
Omnipotence  employs  are  known  and  named,  and 
all  the  processes  are  revealed  by  which,  in  variety  so 
changeful,  he  produces  those  endless  forms  both  of 
utility  and  beauty,  which  perpetually  succeed  each 
other  throughout  the  entire  extent  of  a  decaying  and 
reviving  universe. 

Astronomy,  indeed,  so  far  as  mathematics  are 
concerned,  is  among  the  exact  and  certain  sciences  . 
and  so  precisely  have  the  magnitudes  and  densities 
of  the  sun  and  planets  been  ascertained ;  so  accurate- 
ly havo  their  paths  been  traced,  and  their  motiona 


284  PROGRESS  OF  ASTRONOMICAL  DISCOVERY. 

noted  ;  so  exactly  has  the  influence  even  of  their  re- 
ciprocal disturbing  forces  been  computed,  that  their 
several  revolutions  and  localities  may  be  determined 
by  calculation  for  ages  to  come  with  nearly  the 
same  precision  that  they  have  been  by  observation 
during  ages  that  are  past. 

But  these,  perhaps,  are  neither  the  whole  nor  the 
most  interesting  phenomena  which  the  heavens  ex- 
hibit ;  and,  after  having  become  familiar  with  the 
bolder  lines  of  their  outward  aspect,  man  still  looks 
upward  witb  an  eager  eye,  under  the  influence  of  a 
vague  presentiment  that  the  firmament  above  him 
contains  something  more  than  a  mere  orderly  dis- 
play of  magnitude  and  motion,  and  that  the  orbs 
which  roll  in  it  may  perchance  be  the  residence  of 
some  race  of  kindred  spirits :  spirits,  it  may  be, 
whose  acuter  vision  or  more  powerful  glasses  ena- 
ble them  to  look  down  on  us,  regardful  of  our  prog- 
ress, eager  to  communicate  their  sympathies,  and 
impatiently  waiting  for  the  time  when  our  improved 
instruments  shall  enable  us  to  recognise  their  signal, 
and  to  give  back  by  telegraph  from  our  sidereal 
watch-towers  the  signs  of  recognition. 

Much  that  was  once  unseen,  has  been  already 
rendered  visible  ;  and  since  the  same  light  that  falls 
on  them  is  reflected  upon  us,  and  the  light  that  falls 
on  us  is  reflected  back  to  them,  who  knows  but  some 
future  and  greater  Herschel  may  construct  an  eye- 
glass of  power  to  bring  their  habitations  within  our 
range  of  vision,  and  thus  enable  man  to  commence 
a  correspondence  with  his  sidereal  neighbours? 
Who  knows  but  that  future  generations,  coramunioa* 


CONJECTURES  AS  TO  THE  FUTURE.   285 

ting  with  the  nearest  planets,  and,  through  them,  with 
planets  more  remote,  may  effect  an  interchange  of 
tidings,  passed  from  world  to  world  with  the  celerity 
©flight,  and  carried  far  as  the  sunbeam  travels?  and 
that  thus  successive  glories  may  be  revealed,  till  our 
race,  improved  in  knowledge  and  purified  in  affec- 
tion, shall  be  prepared  to  respond  in  a  loftier  sense 
to  the  sentiment  expressed  from  every  sun  and  plan- 
et. Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works.  Lord  God 
Jllmighty ;  in  ivisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all. 

These  may  seem  idle  and  extravagant  conjec- 
tures, and  yet  be  conjectures  below  the  elevation 
of  the  subject,  and  short  of  that  reality  which  futurity 
shall  reveal. 

Had  the  ascertained  grandeurs  which  astronomy 
has  made  apparent  been  suggested  to  patriarchal 
man,  who  probably  saw  in  the  firmament  above 
him  only  a  spangled  canopy,  revolving  at  no  great 
distance  around  this  one  fixed,  central  planet, 
would  they  not  have  seemed  conjectures  as  idle 
and  extravagant?  And  if,  during  the  first  six 
thousand  years  of  their  existence,  the  human  race 
have  found  means  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the 
number,  and  distance,  and  dimensions,  and  localities 
of  the  planets  which  surround  them,  is  it  quite  in- 
credible that  they  should,  in  some  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  years  to  come,  find  means  to  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  their  zoology  and  botany,  and  of 
the  condition  and  habitudes  of  the  beings  who  in- 
habit them  1 

There  has  been,  I  am  aware,  a  time  when  it 
would  have  been  deemed  impious  to  suggest  that 


286     LAWS  OF  THE  SOLAR  SYSTEM. 

such  might  be  the  duration  of  the  world,  or  such 
the  destiny  of  the  race  inhabiting  it ;  for  there  was 
a  time  when  rehgion,  unmindful  of  the  apostolic 
counsel  and  of  prophetic  calculation,  saw  in  the 
everyday  appearance  of  the  heavens  omens  only  of 
immediate  dissolution. 

Philosophy,  too,  has  jj;iven  countenance  to  the 
same  delusion,  by  asserting  that  the  solar  system 
contained  within  itself  a  principle  of  destruction, 
which  was  hastening  its  end  by  approaches  that 
were  visible.  But  that  time  has  now  gone  by. 
Religion  having  purified  her  faith,  and  Philosophy 
corrected  her  deductions.  Science  no  longer  sup- 
plies arguments  against  even  that  endurance  of  the 
earth  which  St.  John,  in  the  Apocalypse,  has  been 
thought  to  predict  :  it  having  been  shown  in  the 
JMechanique  Coeleste  that  those  apparent  deviations 
which  filled  the  mind  with  such  gloomy  presao^es 
were  apparent  only,  and  that  the  forces  which  pro- 
duced them  were  so  adjusted  by  the  Maker  of  the 
universe  as  to  compensate  at  intervals  the  irregu- 
larities they  occasioned,  and  thus  bring  back  the 
planets  to  the  same  relative  position  in  a  readjusted 
system. 

Nor  is  it  in  astronomy  only  that  room  for  new 
achievements  and  motives  for  new  efforts  remain. 
The  downward  series  of  combinations  is,  for  aught 
we  know,  as  continuous  as  the  upward,  and  its  neth- 
ermost limit  as  far  removed  from  human  observa- 
tion. The  minimum  of  nature  is  as  difficult  of  as- 
certainment as  the  maximum,  and  perhaps  as  many 
wonders  are  yet  concealed  by  nearness  and  minute- 
ness as  by  distance  and  dimension. 


MINERALOGY  AND  BOTANY.       287 

After  all  that  Linngeus  and  Jussieu,  Werner  and 
Haiiy,  have  accomplished,  minernlogy  and  botany 
are  only  in  their  infancy.  Countries  yet  remain  to 
be  traversed,  caverns  to  be  explored,  and  beds  of 
rivers  and  basins  of  seas  to  be  examined,  before 
the  materials  can  be  supplied  for  completing  even 
the  distribution  of  the  genera  and  species.  But  is 
the  completion  of  the  genera  and  species  all  that  re- 
mains to  tempt  and  recompense  the  skill  of  the 
artist  and  the  eye  of  the  observer  ?  No  :  nor  will 
the  triumphs  either  of  art  or  intellect  be  complete 
in  these  departments,  till  the  internal  structure  both 
of  plants  and  minerals  shall  have  become  as  famil- 
iar as  their  external  aspects ;  till  the  true  atomic 
theory  shall  be  exhibited  in  experiment  and  verified 
by  observation  ;  till,  by  a  more  skilful  arrangement 
of  glasses  and  a  more  dexterous  management  of 
sunbeams,  visibility  shall  be  imparted  to  elemental 
particles,  and  the  arrangement  shown  which  they 
assume  in  all  those  tasteful  and  brilliant  varieties  of 
vegetable  development,  and  the  no  less  tasteful  and 
brilliant  varieties  of  crystalline  formations. 

With  respect  to  rain,  and  snow,  and  earthquakes, 
and  tempests,  and  the  various  meteorological  phe- 
nomena, we  possess  little  more  than  hypothesis. 
The  observations  remain  yet  to  be  made,  the  facts 
to  be  collected,  and  the  conclusions  drawn,  by  which 
anything  can  be  arrived  at  deserving  the  name  of 
knowledge.  And  yet  the  time  may  come  when 
these  various,  and  changeful,  and  apparently  capri- 
cious phenomena  shall  be  reduced  to  fixed  awd  gen- 
eral laws ;  and  thei*-  return,  and  duration,  and  de- 


288  THE    REMEDIAL    SYSTEM. 

gree  shall  be  as  capable  of  calculation  as  the  ebbing 
of  the  tides  or  the  changes  of  the  lunar  phases  ; 
so  that  the  voyager  and  husbandman,  relieved  from 
uncertainty  and  no  longer  the  sport  of  chance,  shall 
pursue  their  occupations  under  the  additional  advan- 
tage of  an  enlightened  prescience. 

We  have  lived  to  see  the  lightning  chained,  and 
its  dread  stroke  averted  from  the  frail  edifice  reared 
for  human  habitation.  We  have  lived  to  see  the 
ship  made  independent  of  the  breeze,  riding  tri- 
umphant on  the  billow,  and  breasting  the  tempest 
by  the  impulse  of  steam.  We  have  lived  to  see 
inland  villages  converted  into  ports  of  commerce, 
and  inland  products  floating  on  artificial  rivers  traced 
by  human  hands,  and  connecting  distant  lakes  with 
the  distant  ocean.  These  are  achievements  which 
must  ensure  celebrity  to  individuals,  and  render 
memorable  the  age  they  lived  in.  But  what  farther 
achievements  yet  remain  to  be  accomplished  we 
know  not ;  for  who  can  set  limits  to  science  ?  or 
say  that  posterity  will  not  employ  still  mightier 
agents,  and  obtain  the  mastery  over  elements  which 
now  only  mock  our  efforts  to  control  them  ? 

In  the  healing  art,  nay,  in  the  whole  remedial 
system,  progression  is  apparent. 

For  the  relief  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  a  language 
has  been  invented  and  a  system  of  education  intro- 
duced, which,  in  a  single  age  and  during  the  existing 
generation,  has  produced  the  most  admirable  re- 
sults. Suddenly  has  a  portion  of  the  human  fam- 
ily, hitherto  degraded  by  their  ignorance,  and  nearly 
excluded  by  their  condition  from  human  intercour5:e, 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  DEAF  AND  DUMB.  28Q 

been  raised  to  th^  rank  of  intellectual  beings  ;  in- 
troduced to  the  mysteries  of  science,  to  the  mys- 
teries of  religion,  and  to  a  participation  in  the  de- 
lightful sympathies  and  charities  of  social  life. 

This  benevolent  expedient,  while  imparting  hap- 
piness, has  evolved  talent :  talent  under  very  pecu- 
liar circumstances,  the  remote  effects  of  which  can- 
not now  be  estimated  ;  for  the  situation  of  educated 
mutes,  insensible  to  the  allurements  of  sound  and  in- 
capable of  interruption  from  it,  must  be  eminently 
conducive  to  mental  application,  and  especially  to 
mathematical  research  ;  nor  would  it  be  surprising 
should  they  hereafter  cancel,  by  their  contributions 
to  science,  the  debt  which  they  at  present  owe  to 
charity. 

In  the  mean  time,  those  schools,  founded  for  their 
benefit,  are  diffusing  the  knowledge  of  a  system  of 
signs  already  extensively  adopted,  and  which,  from 
the  number  of  mutes  among  the  different  nations,  is 
hkely  to  be  still  more  extensively  adopted.  Even 
now  voyagers  and  travellers  profit  by  their  use,  as 
courtiers  and  statesmen  hereafter  may ;  so  that  an 
art,  introduced  by  charity  into  the  cottages  of  the 
poor,  may  come  to  dwell  in  the  palaces  of  princes ; 
and  an  expedient,  devised  by  the  benevolent  Sicard 
to  alleviate  the  ills  resulting  from  deafness,  may  be 
employed  to  remedy  the  more  diffusive  ills  that  have 
resulted  from  the  confusion  of  tongues  at  Babel  ; 
and  thus  a  general  intercourse  may  be  established 
among  the  nations,  trained  to  this  new  language  of 
the  eye :  the  only  language  which  has  any  prospect 
<)f  remaining  uniform  or  of  becoming  universal. 


290  TREATMENT    OF    THE    INSANE. 

ISfor  have  the  deaf  and  dumb  arione  shared  in  the 
distribution  of  new  benefits :  for  the  aged,  eye-glasses 
have  been  provided  ;  for  the  maimed,  artificial  limbs 
have  been  constructed  ;  and  to  the  diseased,  appro- 
priate remedies  have  been  administered. 

Maladies  once  deemed  incurable  have  beet 
cured.  Neither  vegetable  nor  mineral  poisons,  how 
ever  virulent,  are  now  uniformly  mortal.  Even  hy- 
drophobia is  said  to  have  yielded  to  surgical  opera- 
tion ;  and  vaccination,  introduced  by  the  philosophic 
Jenner,  has  nearly  removed  the  terrors  of  one  ol 
the  most  dreadful  scourges  of  marikind. 

The  maladies  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
body,  are  beginning  to  be  better  understood,  and  to 
be  treated  more  successfully  than  they  formerly 
were.  No  longer  is  the  lunatic  bound  in  chains  or 
scourged  with  thongs  ;  nor  is  mental  alienation  any 
longer  regarded  as  the  most  hopeless,  because  the 
most  incurable  of  evils. 

And  here  it  is  gratifying  to  remark,  that  American 
physicians  have  contributed  to  the  introduction  of 
those  juster  views  and  that  more  benign  practice 
which  are  destined  to  bless  the  nations.  With  th« 
wisdom  of  the  sage  and  the  benevolence  of  the 
saint,  the  late  lamented  Rush  urged  the  substitution 
of  kindness  for  cruelty  in  the  management  of  the 
insane.  But  it  was  reserved  for  another  and  more 
highly-favoured  individual  to  develop,  by  a  series  of 
patient  experiments,  the  practical  benefits  of  such  a 
substitution. 

This  man,  even  yet  unknown  to  fame,  without 
fortune  and  without  patronage,  ventured  to  establish, 


Chaplin's  asylum.  291 

and  has  for  years  continued  to  manage  an  asylum 
which,  in  its  resuhs,  has  surpassed,  not  only  the  asy- 
lums of  other  times,  but  of  other  countries  ;  and  from 
which  there  has  been  sent  back  to  their  friends  and 
to  society  a  larger  proportion  of  patients  restored  to 
reason  and  to  happiness  than  from  any  kindred  in- 
stitution now  known  on  earth  or  recorded  in  history. 

A  design  so  benevolent  and  adventurous,  execu- 
ted under  great  discouragements,  and  with  such  in- 
comparable success,  needs  no  present  commend- 
ation ;  nor  will  future  eulogy  be  necessary  to  render 
the  name  of  ChapHn  hereafter  as  dear  to  tame  as 
It  is  aheady  to  humanity. 

To  the  increase  of  medical  skill  in  Britain  more 
than  to  any  other  cause,  perhaps,  is  to  be  attributed 
that  increase  in  the  average  duration  of  human  life 
which  has  become  of  late  a  subject  of  remark. 

And  shall  we  suppose,  in  this  conflict  with  mor- 
tality, because  triumphs  have  been  achieved  by  the 
disciples  of  Esculapius,  that  farther  triumphs  are 
therefore  impossible  ?  And  that  to  the  future  prac- 
titioner it  only  remains  to  mark  the  diagnosis  of  dis 
ease  laid  down  in  his  textbook,  and  apply  the  rem 
edies  prescribed  in  his  dispensatory  ? 

There  is  no  greater  reason  for  believing  the  mor- 
tal maladies  which  remain  necessarily  mortal,  than 
there  once  was  for  believing  those  to  be  so  which 
now  yield  to  the  power  of  medicine.  Here,  doubt- 
less, as  elsewhere,  and  now  as  formerly,  the  field  lies 
open  ;  nor  will  the  faculty  have  done  all  that  man 
requires  or  that  God  enjoins  so  long  as  a  disease 
remains  to  be  healed  or  a  pain  to  be  relieved. 


292  POLITICAL    SCIENCE. 

Brilliant  are  the  successes  of  the  past ;  but  hope 
lights  up  the  future  with  a  prospect  of  successes 
still  more  brilliant,  to  be  continued  until,  by  a  more 
perfect  knowledge  of  disease,  a  more  complete  de- 
velopment of  remedies,  a  farther  augmentation  of 
comforts,  a  wiser  formation  of  habits,  and  a  holier 
manner  of  life,  Pandora's  box  shall  again  be  closed, 
the  vigour  of  primitive  constitution  reappear,  and  the 
longevity  of  antediluvian  man  return. 

Let  it  not  be  deemed  either  visionary  or  profane 
to  indulge  such  anticipations,  since  prophets  divinely 
inspired  have  indulged  them.  Visionary  or  profane 
as  we  may  deem  it,  the  time  approaches  when  the 
age  of  man  shall  he  as  the  age  of  a  tree ;  and  the 
inhabitants  shall  not  say  I  am  sick ;  for  the  mouth 
of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it. 

This  may,  indeed,  be  supernaturally  induced  ;  but 
it  is  not  according  to  the  analogy  of  JProvidence  that 
it  should  be  so.  Means  are  the  instruments  in  ef- 
fecting man's  moral  renovation,  and  why  should  they 
not  be  in  effecting  his  physical  renovation  also? 
From  misery  as  well  as  from  guilt,  it  is  his,  by  the 
help  of  God,  to  accomplish  his  own  deliverance  and 
to  work  out  his  own  salvation. 

In  political  as  well  as  in  physical  science,  a  like 
progressive  development  is  apparent. 

The  older  governments  were  reared,  and  they  rest 
on  the  right  of  prescription.  That  authority  is  a  sacred 
deposite  in  the  hands  of  the  few  for  the  control  of 
the  many  ;  that  it  is  hereditary,  and  its  possessor 
responsible  to  God  alone  for  its  exercise,  has  long 
been  asserted  by  sovereigns  and  admitted  by  their 
subjects. 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES.    293 

These  ancient  doctrines,  for  the  continued  main- 
tenance of  which  such  efforts  are  making  on  the  one 
Continent,  are  to  a  great  extent  abjured  on  the  other. 
Not  merely  new,  but  adverse  doctrines  have  been 
promulgated  :  that  national  sovereignty  is  placed  in 
the  aggregation  of  individual  volition  ;  that  the  peo- 
ple themselves  are  the  original  source  and  ultimate 
depository  of  human  authority ;  and  that  office  is  a 
trust  from  them,  reclaimable  at  their  pleasure,  and  to 
be  executed  conformably  to  their  will. 

These  doctrines,  once  mere  speculation,  are  now 
not  only  imbodied  in  form  and  adopted  in  theory, 
but  millions  of  human  beings,  scattered  over  exten- 
sive territories,  are  carrying  them  into  effect ;  and 
are  making,  on  a  mighty  scale,  and  in  behalf  of  the 
human  race,  the  sublime  experiment  of  practical 
self-government.  Should  this  experiment  succeed — 
and  we  trust  in  God  it  will — to  say  nothing  of  its  re- 
action on  Europe  and  Asia,  nearly  half  the  human 
race  will  probably,  at  no  distant  day,  in  America, 
participate  in  its  blessed  results. 

And  yet,  even  in  the  land  where  this  experiment 
is  making,  its  legitimate  effects  are  but  partially  ap- 
parent; for  even  here  slavery  exists,  and  freemen 
are  attended  and  served  by  slaves.  This  only  in- 
stitution of  tyranny  is  a  curse  engendered  in  othei 
times  and  under  a  different  form  of  government 
Had  the  opinions  and  wishes  of  the  primitive  colo- 
nists been  consulted,  such  an  anomaly  as  slavery,  in 
any  of  its  forms,  could  not  now  have  had  existence. 
Still  its  existence  is  not  the  less  an  evil  on  that  ac- 


294  SLAVERY  IN  THE  NORTHERN  STATES. 

count,  and  an  evil  that  we  seem  doomed,  for  the 
present  at  least,  to  retain  and  to  deprecate. 

Thus  has  the  most  benignant  form  of  government 
the  nations  ever  witnessed  brought  no  blessings  with 
it  to  a  multitude  of  wretched  beings  over  whom 
Compassion  weeps,  but  whom  Compassion  even  can- 
not disinthral ;  and  whose  final  disinthralment  Hope 
sees  only  in  distant  and  dim  perspective,  in  the  light 
of  seme  future  jubilee,  when  domestic  as  well  as 
civil  oppression  shall  have  ceased,  and  no  print  of 
vassal  footsteps  remain  thereafter  on  freedom's  soili 
nor  chain  be  worn  beneath  the  sun  of  freedom. 

I  am  aware  that  our  domestic  slavery  is  consid- 
ered by  many  as  merely  a  local  evil ;  and  that  it  has 
become  fashionable  to  think  and  speak  of  it  as 
though  we  at  the  North  were  no  way  implicated  in 
its  guilt,  or  liable  to  be  affected  by  that  ultimate  ven- 
geance it  threatens  to  inflict. 

Is  it  then  forgotten  that  slavery  was  once  legalized 
in  New-England  1  or  is  it  unknown  that,  till  recently, 
it  was  legalized  in  New- York  ?  Meet  we  not  with 
the  memorials  of  its  once  greater  prevalence  in  those 
degraded  menials  that  still  carry  about  with  them  the 
print  of  chains,  retain  the  manners,  and  speak  the 
dialect  of  bondage  1  If  the  number  of  blacks  and 
of  slaves  be  less  at  the  North  than  at  the  South,  we 
owe  this  enviable  distinction  to  our  climate,  not  our 
virtue.  It  was  neither  the  foresight  nor  the  piety  of 
the  Pilgrims,  but  the  good  Providence  of  God,  that 
traced  the  lines  of  their  inheritance  on  this  side  the 
natural  limit  of  negro  habitation.  If  the  planter  of 
the  South  has  long  appeared  in  the  odious  charac 


NEW-ENGLAND    SLAVE-TRADERS.  295 

ter  of  receiver  of  stolen  men,  the  trader  of  the  North 
has  as  long  appeared  in  the  still  more  odious  charac 
ter  of^  man- stealer. 

It  must  be  admitted — with  humiliation  indeed,  but 
still  it  must  be  admitted — that  with  New-England 
capital  slave-ships  have  been  built,  and  with  New- 
England  seamen  navigated.  In  New-England,  too, 
have  stood  the  workshops  in  which  those  yokes  and 
manacles  were  forged  that  weighed  on  the  limbs  of 
the  captive  negro  during  his  passage  to  bondage. 
On  Virginia,  at  least,  slavery  was  forced  contrary  to 
her  will  and  against  her  remonstrance.  Can  as 
much  be  said  in  favour  of  all  other  and  more  north- 
ern colonies  ? 

But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  comparative 
guilt  of  the  parties  concerned  in  making  merchan- 
dise of  men,  the  alarming  consequence  of  their  joint 
iniquity  is  sufficiently  apparent  in  the  existence 
among  us  of  more  than  one  million  six  hundred 
thousand  slaves.  This  is  an  abatement  of  national 
prosperity  connected  with  no  alleviating  circum- 
stance ;  nor  is  there  any  softening  light  in  which  this 
feature  in  our  condition  can  be  viewed.  Slavery,  in 
all  its  forms,  is  odious  ;  in  all  its  bearings,  hurtful. 
It  is  an  evil  gratuitous  and  unmixed  ;  and  equally  an 
evil  to  the  slave,  his  master,  and  the  state. 

Its  existence  bespeaks  an  unnatural  state  of  things. 
In  whatever  society  the  few  lord  it  over  the  many, 
the  balance  of  energies  is  disturbed  ;  and  there  will 
be  a  constant  tendency  in  the  system  to  weaken  the 
preponderance  of  power  and  restore  the  equilibrium. 
Even  in  governments  less  popular  than  our  own,  this 


296       SLAVERY    IN   DESPOTIC    COUNTRIES. 

tendency  is  apparent.  Roman  slavery  has  long 
since  ceased.  Feudal  tyranny  has  passed  away 
from  Europe,  and  the  condition  of  the  serfs  of  Sax- 
ony and  the  boors  of  Russia  is  ameliorating ;  and, 
though  not  free,  they  are  gradually  approximating 
towards  freedom. 

But  there  are  causes  that  render  the  perpetuity  of 
slavery  here  more  difficult  than  elsewhere,  and  more 
difficult  in  the  present  than  in  former  ages. 

Domestic  slavery  is  not  abhorrent  to  the  feelings 
of  a  community  accustomed  to  political  slavery,  nor 
inconsistent  in  principle  with  governments  founded 
on  prescriptive  and  hereditary  privilege.  It  harmo- 
nizes with  the  institutions  of  Tunis,  Morocco,  Al- 
giers, and  other  provinces  of  Turkish  despotism. 
Religion  there  even  sanctions  it ;  and  it  is  felt  to 
be  as  righteous  as  it  is  convenient,  to  compel  the 
followers  of  Christ  to  become  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water  to  the  followers  of  Mohammed. 
With  us  it  is  otherwise.  Slavery  is  here  a  perfect 
anomaly.  It  stands  out  by  itself,  an  isolated  insti- 
tution, unsupported,  unconnected,  and  at  variance 
with  all  our  other  institutions.  It  is  at  variance  with 
the  spirit  of  our  government ;  at  variance  with  its 
letter.  It  is  at  variance  with  our  political  principles, 
at  variance  with  our  religious  principles,  revolting  to 
our  moral  feelings,  and  crosses  all  our  habits  of 
thought  and  action.  And  can  there  be  a  question 
whether  slavery,  under  such  circumstances,  in  such  a 
country,  and  among  such  a  people,  can  be  eternal  ? 
If  villanage  in  Britain,  and  even  in  Gaul,  has  ceased 
-*"if  the  serfs  of  Saxony  and  the  boors  of  Russia  are 


SLAVERY  ONCE  UPHELD  BY  THE   CHURCH.  29'^ 

rising  in  the  scale  of  being,  and  there  be  even  hope 
that  the  degraded  Hindu  will  one  day  be  disinthral- 
led  by  the  diffusion  of  science,  and  the  slow  but  re- 
sistless inarch  of  public  opinion,  is  there  no  hope  of 
disinthralrnent  for  the  African,  who  breathes  the  air, 
and  sees  the  light,  and  treads  the  soil  of  freedom  1 
impossible  I  such  an  outrage  cannot  be  perpetual, 
i  ^e  constitution  of  man,  of  nature,  of  heaven  and 
earth  must  change,  or  slavery  be  subverted.  It 
cannot  stand  against  the  progress  of  society.  Its 
doom  has  been  pronounced  already  ;  and  the  for- 
ward movement  of  the  world  will  overthrow  it. 

Is  it  forgotten  that  slavery  was  once  sanctioned 
by  even  ecclesiastical  authority  1  and  that  the  cross 
and  the  crescent  were  alike  arrayed  on  its  side  ?  Is 
it  forgotten  that  the  negro  race  have  been  solemn- 
ly consigned  to  perpetual  bondage  by  the  highest 
authority  in  Christendom,  because  they  never  at- 
tended mass,  and  were  of  the  colour  of  the  damned  ? 
And,  thereafter,  that  centuries  rolled  away,  during 
which  Africa  was  considered  as  rightfully  given  up 
to  plunder  by  Christian  nations,  who,  without  com- 
punction and  without  regret,  conspired  to  ravage  her 
coasts  and  reduce  her  captive  sons  to  slavery  ? 

Nor  was  it  till  ou.  own  times  that  the  spell  which 
/lad  so  long  bound  the  understanding  and  the  nioial 
sense  of  Christendom  was  broken.  There  are  those 
^w  living  who  remember  when  the  slave-trade,  un- 
assailed  and  without  an  enemy,  remained  interwoven 
with  the  ;;olicy  and  intrenched  in  the  prepossessions 
ofev^vy  Christian  nation ;  when  the  king,  and  the  Par- 
harn^ot,  and  the  people  even  of  Britain  stood  firna 
Z 


298         ABOLITION    OF    THE    SLAVE-TRADE. 

in  its  defence ;  when,  in  opposition  to  this  array  of 
opinion  and  of  power,  Granville  Sharp  first  raised 
his  voice,  and  Clarkson,  and  Wiiberforce,  and  their 
coadjutors  took  their  stand ;  and  who  remember, 
loo,  the  contempt  with  which  the  first  humble  efforts 
of  these  men  of  mercy  were  regarded  :  efforts  which 
were  destined  to  shake,  and  which  have  already 
shaken,  the  system  they  assailed  to  its  base,  and 
changed  the  current  of  feeling  throughout  the  world. 
The  slave,  of  whatever  cast  or  colour,  has  long  since 
been  declared  free  the  moment  he  sets  his  foot  on 
British  soil ;  and  the  trade  in  slaves,  already  abolish- 
ed by  Britain,  has  been  denounced  by  almost  every 
Christian  nation. 

Everywhere,  as  discussion  has  increased,  the 
friends  of  slavery  have  diminished  ;  and  results  as 
memorable  have  been  effected  on  this  side  the  Atlan- 
tic as  on  the  other.  Time  was  when  slavery  sat 
as  easy  on  the  conscience  of  the  Puritan  of  the 
North  as  of  the  planter  of  the  South ;  when  states- 
men of  the  purest  patriotism,  and  clergymen  of  the 
loftiest  intellect  New-England  ever  boasted,  were 
found  among  its  champions ;  and  when,  even  there, 
men  of  every  rank  as  much  expected  their  slaves 
as  their  lands  to  descend  in  perpetuity  to  their  chil- 
dren. 

The  slave-trade,  however,  has  not  only  been  abol- 
ished by  the  national  republic,  but  slavery  itself  has 
also  been  abolished  in  the  whole  of  New-England, 
New-Jersey,  New-York,  and  Pennsylvania.  In  Del- 
aware and  Maryland  it  is  waning  to  its  close,  and  in 
Virginia,  though  it  exists  in  strength,  yet  its  exist- 


PROGKESS    OF    PUBLIC    OPINION.  299 

ence  is  abhorred  ;  while,  by  the  rise  of  kindred  re- 
pubHcs  in  Spanish  America,  it  has,  through  vast  and 
contiguous  territories,  suddenly  ceased  to  exist. 

These  are  splendid  triumphs  which  the  march  of 
public  opinion  has  achieved.  It  is  still  on  the  ad- 
vance, gathering  momentum  as  it  advances.  And 
the  posterity  of  those  now  so  intent  on  sustaining 
slavery  will  not  consent  to  its  being  sustained. 

There  are  few  enlightened  patriots  at  the  South 
who  do  not  already  abhor  the  system  ;  who  do  not 
regard  it  as  an  evil ;  who  do  not  desire  its  abolition. 
Our  brethren  of  the  South  have  the  same  sympathies, 
the  same  moral  sentiments,  the  same  love  of  liberty 
as  ourselves.  By  them  as  by  us,  slavery  is  felt  to  be 
an  evil,  a  hinderance  to  our  prosperity,  and  a  blot  upon 
our  character.  That  it  exists  to  such  a  fearful  extent 
among  them  is  not  the  result  of  choice,  but  of  ne- 
cessity. It  was  in  being  when  they  were  born,  and 
has  been  forced  on  them  by  a  previous  generation. 

Can  any  considerate  man,  in  the  view  of  what 
has  been  done  and  what  is  now  doing,  believe  that, 
amid  so  many  merciful  designs,  so  many  benevolent 
activities,  the  negro  slave  will  experience  no  deliver- 
ance 1  That  the  master  will  remain  for  ever  undis- 
turbed by  the  presence  of  stripes  and  chains,  and 
continue  without  relenting,  from  year  to  year,  and 
from  generation  to  generation,  to  eat  the  bread,  and 
wear  the  raiment,  and  export  the  staple  produced  by 
the  tears  and  sweat  of  bondmen  1  That  the  free 
and  enlightened  inhabitants  of  this  proud  republic 
will  go  on  celebrating  their  Fourth  of  July,  reading 
their  Declaration  of  Independence,  and,  regardless 


300       CERTAIN    SUBVERSION    OF    SLAVERY. 

of  the  groans  of  so  many  millions  held  in  bondage, 
persist  in  the  mockery  of  reproaching  despots,  of 
eulogizing  republics,  and  holding  up  before  the  eyes 
of  an  insulted  universe  the  ensign  of  liberty?  It 
cannot  be.  To  sustain  such  an  abuse  under  such 
circumstances  is  impossible.  There  needs  no  do- 
mestic insurrection,  no  foreign  interference  to  sub- 
vert an  institution  so  repugnant  to  all  our  other  in- 
stitutions. Public  opinion  has  already  pronounced 
on  it ;  and  the  moral  energy  of  the  nation  will  soon- 
er or  later  effect  its  overthrow. 

Already  planted  on  the  African  shore  is  seen  a 
beacon  of  promise.  There  an  asylum  has  been 
provided,  and  thither  the  ransomed  captives  are  be- 
ginning to  return,  reconveying  to  the  land  of  their 
fathers  both  civilization  and  religion.  These  may 
be  but  the  pioneers  of  a  progressive  civilization,  to 
be  continued  until  a  continent  has  been  reclaimed, 
and  a  race  redeemed  through  the  agency  of  our 
emancipated  slaves. 

True  it  is  that  neither  the  trader's  manacle  nor 
the  driver's  whip  is  the  most  obvious  omen  of  na- 
tional enlargement.  It  is,  however,  as  much  so  as 
the  yoke  of  Israel  or  the  prison-house  of  Poti- 
phar.  Nor  is  the  way  to  glory  for  Cush  through 
bondage  in  America  more  circuitous  and  indirect 
than  it  was  to  Israel  through  bondage  in  Egypt. 
And  since  the  Israelite  has  reached  the  one  by  ma- 
king the  circuit  of  the  other,  it  will  not  be  unparal- 
leled in  the  history  of  the  world  should  the  Cushite 
also. 

The  civil  jurisprudence  of  these  states,  retaining 


AMELIORATION    OF    THE    CRIMINAL    CODE.     301 

whatever  was  consonant  to  reason  and  congenial  to 
liberty  in  the  Common  Law — that  matchless  monu- 
ment of  wisdom — has  silently  accommodated  itself 
to  our  new  condition. 

In  most  of  the  states  the  despotism  of  creditors 
has  been  abridged,  and  the  prison  limits  of  debtors 
enlarged,  and  enlightened  and  philanthropic  states- 
men are  now  employed  in  wiping  from  the  natior, 
the  reproach  of  making  misfortune  penal,  and  ren 
dering  to  honest  bankruptcy  the  retribution  of  im 
prisonment. 

Our  criminal  code,  by  repeated  revision,  has  been 
greatly  ameliorated,  and  is  still  ameliorating. 

Trial  by  battle  has  ceased ;  the  practice  of  rid- 
ding society  of  felons  by  the  summary  process  of 
the  gallows  is  diminished,  and,  by  rendering  penalties 
disciplinary  as  well  as  retributive,  a  new  principle 
has  been  introduced ;  a  principle,  the  effects  of 
which  will  then  only  be  fully  apparent  when,  by  a 
more  measured  graduation  of  crime,  a  more  judi- 
cious classification  of  criminals,  and  a  more  efficient 
administration  of  moral  discipline,  prisons  shall  have 
become  retirements  for  contrition  and  schools  of 
virtue,  instead  of  being  halls  of  ribaldry  and  nurseries 
of  vice.  Nor  will  farther  revision  be  unnecessary 
until  another  principle  shall  have  been  introduced, 
and  prevention  as  well  as  amendment  rendered 
prominent  in  the  system  ;  far  it  is  not  only  requisite 
that  criminals  should  be  reformed,  but  also  thai 
temptations  to  crime  should  be  removed,  facilities 
to  crime  diminished,  and  that  the  children  of  the 
republic,  at  least,  should  be  so  guarded  and  educa- 


302    PROGRESS   OF  RELIGIOUS  TOLERATION. 

ted,  that,  though  the  aged  should  never  be  reclaimed, 
the  state  may,  notwithstanding,  be  freed  from  the 
burden  of  maintaining  either  paupers  or  convicts, 
and  society  become  purified  from  vagrancy  and 
crime  by  the  gradual  production  of  a  more  indus- 
trious and  virtuous  generation.  So  that  in  this  de- 
partment, also,  there  remain  new  measures  for  policy 
to  discuss,  and  fields  untroddren  over  which  patriot- 
ism may  expatiate. 

But  there  are  improvements  which  owe  their  ex- 
istence not  so  much  to  the  wisdom  of  legislation  as 
to  the  higher  wisdom  of  forbearing  to  legislate. 
That  undefined  boundary  where  utility  from  regu- 
lation ceases  and  injury  begins  has  not  always  been 
regarded. 

Time  was  when  even  the  homage  man  owes  to  his 
Maker  was  deemed  a  fit  object  foi  legal  enactment 
and  penal  enforcement.  The  secret  aspirations  of 
the  heart  and  the  delicate  workings  of  conscience 
were  held  to  supervision  by  human  inquest,  and 
subjected  to  the  rude  discipline  of  terrestrial  courts. 
Thought  itself  was  regulated,  opinion  made  penal, 
and  fire  and  sword  legalized  in  defence  of  faith. 
France  and  Britain,  as  well  as  Spain  and  Portugal, 
enforced  uniformity  by  torture,  and  from  dungeons 
and  scaffolds  addressed  to  dissent  their  rebuke. 
And,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  land  of  those  very 
Pilgrims  who  fled  from  martyrdom  was  itself  stained 
with  the  blood  of  martyrs  ! 

This  most  fearful  of  errors  has  at  length  been  dis- 
covered and  corrected.  Cases  of  conscience  have 
been  dismissed  from  the  courts,  and  penalties  for 
unbelief  blotted  from  the  statute-book.     Enactments 


THE    CHRISTIAN    SYSTEM.  303 

against  wiLchcraft  have  ceased,  and  prosecutions 
against  witches  have  been  discontinued  :  the  learned 
disquisitions  of  divines  on  the  nature  of  the  crime,  and 
the  grave  distinctions  of  jurists  in  trying  the  offence, 
as  well  as  the  vulgar  tests  of  water  and  fire  in  dis- 
covering the  offender,  have  all  been  alike  disregard- 
ed. And  it  is  satisfactory  to  add,  that  the  crime  of 
witch-riding,  as  well  as  the  dread  of  being  witch- 
ridden,  have  both  disappeared  with  the  disappearance 
of  that  pomp  of  inquest  and  execution  which  ag- 
gravated, if  they  did  not  even  produce,  the  very  evil 
they  were  intended  to  prevent. 

These  happy  results  have  been  effected,  not  by 
the  doings  of  statesmen,  but  by  their  abstaining 
from  action  :  an  unostentatious  method  of  conferring 
benefits,  but  not  the  less  effectual  on  that  account ; 
and  one  by  which  still  other  benefits,  perhaps,  re- 
main to  be  conferred  :  for,  whether  vagrancy  and 
pauperism,  as  did  witchcraft,  do  not  owe  much  of 
their  thrift  and  increment  to  the  stimulus  of  legisla 
lion,  is  a  problem  that  yet  remains  to  be  solved. 

In  religion,  which  has  been  the  occasion  of  the 
purest  virtues  and  the  blackest  crimes,  of  the  keen- 
est anguish  and  the  holiest  joys,  though  progress  has 
been  made,  there  is  room  for  still  farther  progress. 

As  yet,  even  Christian  nations  neither  fully  know 
the  merits  nor  feel  the  benefits  of  the  Christian  sys- 
tem. Nor  is  it  strange  that  they  do  not.  For  no 
sooner  did  ihe  church  cease  to  be  persecuted  by  the 
state,  than  she  received  the  impress  of  its  form,  and 
became  thereafter  the  subject  of  its  policy. 

The  authority  of  priests  was  reared  on  the  same 
base  as  that  of  princes.     To  regulate  human  action 


304     READING    OF  THE    BIBLE    PROHIBITED. 

was  the  prerogative  of  the  one,  io  regulate  human 
opinion  that  of  the  other.  They  who  might  not 
think,  need  not  read.  Hence,  to  the  vassal  multi- 
tude, the  Bible  was  prohibited.  A  dense  and  fright* 
ful  darkness  thereafter  overspread  the  world,  of 
which  the  darkness  of  Egypt,  that  could  be  felt, 
was  but  an  emblem.  In  the  mean  time,  the  soul  as 
well  as  the  body  of  man,  under  this  double  despo- 
tism of  the  altar  and  the  throne,  became  bowed  to 
the  dust. 

Ages  elapsed  before  the  recoil  was  felt  and  the 
Bible  restored ;  and  even  its  restoration  produced 
but  a  partial  benefit.  In  Protestant  Christendom, 
where  liberty  to  read  was  granted,  the  book  itself 
was  rare  ;  by  many  it  could  not  be  procured,  while 
multitudes  were  incapable  of  reading  it. 

To  meet  this  exigency,  creeds  and  catechisms 
were  compiled  ;  and  to  these  the  people  were  sent, 
to  acquire  a  summary  knowledge  of  the  contents  of 
that  restored  and  authoritative  volume. 

These  manuals,  though  rich  in  doctrine,  were  yet 
abstract  and  unimpassioned  in  manner ;  addressing 
the  intellect  rather  than  the  conscience,  the  affections, 
the  imagination,  or  the  heart.  They  contairjed  the 
real,  but  naked,  elements  of  the  Christian  system. 

Truths,  indeed,  were  thus  communicated ;  but 
they  were  drawn  up  in  form  and  stated  with  brevity : 
ti'uths  unaccompanied  by  that  freedom  of  discussion, 
that  variety  of  illustration,  that  freshness  of  colour- 
ing, that  persuasiveness  of  motive,  and  general  im- 
press of  divinity  so  apparent  in  the  sacred  writings. 
Useful  as  these  helps  might  have  been  in  the  ar- 
ran^rement  of  Christian  knowledge  already  acquired, 


CREEDS    AND    CATECHISMS.  305 

they  could  never  avail  to  an  adequate  acquisition  oi 
that  knowledge  ;  for  they  contained,  at  best,  a  mere 
skeleton  of  revealed  religion,  and  not  revealed  religion 
herself,  robed  in  beauty,  glowing  with  animation, 
throbbing  with  life,  and  in  the  full  array  of  those 
celestial  glories  which  beam  forth  from  the  sacred 
canvass,  on  which  her  features  are  drawn  with  skill 
inimitable  and  by  a  pencil  divine.  And  yet  even 
children  acquired  their  first  ideas  and  received  their 
first  impressions  from  the  study  of  lessons  containing 
only  formal  propositions,  systematically  arranged  in 
some  chosen  abstract  of  Bible  truths  ;  and  not  by 
the  study  of  those  simpler  and  richer,  as  well  as  di- 
viner lessons  of  wisdom  adapted  to  their  years,  ad- 
dressed to  their  sensibility,  and  presented  in  forms 
so  alluring,  and  in  variety  so  attractive,  on  the  pages 
of  the  Book  of  God  itself. 

Hence  it  happened  that  Luther,  and  Calvin,  and 
Knox,  arid  their  revered  coadjutors,  while  assailing 
the  authority  of  Rome,  silently  established  over  many 
a  mind  a  milder  but  a  paramount  authority ;  nor 
was  it  till  a  later  age  that  the  bearing  of  that  great 
principle  they  had  assumed  was  fully  perceived,  or 
that  measures  were  taken  to  render  its  application 
universal. 

An  effort  is  at  length  making  to  give,  not  merely 
creeds  compiled  from  the  Bible,  but  the  Bible  itse.if, 
to  every  family  in  Christendom ;  nay,  not  only  to 
every  family,  but  even  to  every  individual  on  the 
earth. 

By  the  joint  influence  of  the  Bible  and  the  Sun- 
day-school, thousands  o^  children  are  now  exercising 


306    THE    BIBLE  AND    THE    SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 

their  understandings  on  the  doctrines,  treasuring  up 
in  their  memories  the  facts,  stimulating  their  con- 
sciences by  the  precepts,  and  staying  their  hopes 
on  the  promises  of  that  blessed  book  which  hcis 
power  to  make  man  wise  unto  salvation. 

Already  is  the  result  beginning  to  be  apparent  in 
the  excitement  of  Bible  sympathies  and  the  forma- 
tion of  a  Bible  character.  Thus  has  an  impulse 
been  given  to  the  juvenile  mind  training  in  these  lit- 
tle nurseries  of  wisdom,  which  will  be  hereafter  felt 
through  all  the  ranks  of  society  ;  which  will  even  re- 
act on  the  sanctuary  and  the  doctors  of  the  law; 
not  only  inducing  a  holier  life,  but  restoring  to  the 
universal  church  a  purer  faith  and  a  sounder  form 
of  words  :  the  words  in  which  the  great  Teacher 
himself  delivered  to  mankind  his  oracles. 

It  has  been  said  that  bringing  the  public  mind  into 
contact  with  the  Bible,  though  it  should  unite  opin- 
ion on  obvious  and  important  points,  must,  on  points 
not  obvious  or  important,  call  forth  debate  and  en- 
sure division.  Be  it  even  so.  Is  this  an  evil  so 
greatly  to  be  dreaded  ? 

How  much  crime,  and  blood,  and  treasure,  has 
the  attempt  to  coerce  uniformity  cost  the  nations  1 
How  few  have  even  yet  attained  it  ?  And  when  at* 
tained,  what  people  did  it  ever  benefit  ?  Has  it  any- 
where either  promoted  industry,  advanced  science, 
or  purified  morality  1 

If  it  be  so  important  that  the  train  of  future 
thought  should  be  kept  for  ever  within  the  limits  of 
existing  forms,  it  were  as  well  to  resume  the  ancient 
mould,  and  again  subject  the  operations  of  the 
mind  to  the  pressure  of  that  great  moral  lever,  tlie 


RELIGIOUS    UNIFORMITY.  307 

fulcrum  of  which  has,  for  so  many  ages,  been  plant- 
ed at  Rome. 

Apologies,  indeed,  have  been  offered  for  the  vari- 
ety of  opinion  in  which  freedom  of  thought  has  is- 
sued. But  apologies  were  unnecessary.  A  multi- 
plicity of  sects,  differing  in  faith  and  forms,  and  yet 
reciprocating  kindness  and  dwelling  together  in  uni- 
ty, is  among  the  fairest  features  that  modern  Chris- 
tendom exhibits.  How  do  the  racks,  and  gibbets, 
and  dungeons,  and  scaffolds,  and  fires,  with  which 
uniformity  has  for  ages  been  surrounded — how  do 
these  compare  with  the  mild,  and  tranquil,  and  vari- 
ed array  of  different  Christian  communities,  advan- 
cing side  by  side  towards  heaven,  and  provoking 
one  another  on  the  way  only  to  love  and  good  works  ! 

And  is  it,  then,  to  be  dreaded  as  so  great  an  evil 
that,  under  the  more  diffusive  influence  of  the  Bible, 
other  and  yet  other  Christian  denominations  may 
arise  to  quicken  the  labours  and  stimulate  the  zeal 
of  existing  denominations  ;  to  correct,  perhaps,  their 
errors ;  to  check  their  declension,  to  augment  their 
means,  and  co-operate  in  the  execution  of  their  de- 
signs of  goodness  1 

Notwithstanding  the  dogmatism  of  courts  and 
councils,  the  fatal  maxim  that  diversity  of  doctrine 
or  worship  is  incompatible  with  social  happiness  and 
public  safety  has  been  at  length  refuted,  and  it  is 
ours  to  share  in  the  glory  of  its  refutation.  And 
who  knows  but,  in  the  farther  progress  of  Christian 
knowledge  and  the  farther  development  of  Christian 
principle,  it  may  come  to  be  universally  apparent, 
that  the  unity  of  the  church  itself,  and  the  only  unity 
which  God  requires  or  of  which  he  approves,  consists 


308      BENEFICENT   EFFECTS    OF   RELIGION. 

not  in  that  outward  identity  of  aspect  which  perse- 
cution has  for  ages  been  strugghng  to  impress,  but 
in  an  inward  oneness  of  spirit :  a  unity  nowhere  on 
earth  more  apparent  than  in  the  diveis  Christian 
communities,  each  performing  its  appointed  duty, 
each  moving  in  its  appropriate  sphere,  and  all  com- 
bined and  harmonized  in  one  common  system  of  be- 
nevolent exertion,  by  the  influence  of  that  celestial 
charity  which  on  earth,  as  in  heaven,  is  the  cement 
of  society  and  the  bond  of  perfectness ;  and  which 
requires  only  to  be  cherished  and  extended  to  ban- 
ish discord,  and  transform  the  world  itself  into  a 
theatre  of  peace,  in  which  nothing  shall  remain  to 
molest  or  make  afraid,  as  in  God's  holy  mountain. 

Religion  is  intimately  connected  with  the  best  in- 
terests of  the  human  race  ;  and  every  advance  made 
in  the  knowledge  of  its  doctrines  or  in  the  admin- 
istration of  its  discipline  must  be  favourable  to  those 
interests.  To  religion,  even  under  its  pagan  form, 
both  art  and  science  are  indebted.  It  was  the 
achievements  of  the  gods  that  woke  the  harp  of 
Homer ;  it  was  the  statues  of  the  gods  that  employed 
the  chisel  of  Phidias ;  it  was  the  portraitures  of  the 
gods  that  imbodied  those  touches  of  the  pencil  of 
Apelles. 

Hunger,  and  cold,  and  nakedness  may  call  forth 
mere  physical  energy,  but  the  inspirations  of  genius 
result  from  sublimer  stimuli,  and  require  both  motives 
and  models  from  an  incorporeal  world.  Those  mo- 
tives and  models  revelation  furnishes,  in  a  higher  de- 
gree and  of  a  holier  kind  than  were  ever  elsewhere 
furnished  ;  and  the  scholar  is  now  encouraged  in  his 
efforts  and  in  his  anticipations  by  the  indications  of 


SENTIMENTS    INSPIRED    BY    THE    BIBLE.       309 

Providence  as  well  as  the  language  of  prophecy, 
since  it  is  impossible  for  him  not  to  see,  in  the  light 
the  Bible  sheds  upon  his  prospects,  that  great  and 
benign  results  must  follow  from  the  operation  of  that 
moral  machinery  which  is  beginning  to  bear  upon 
the  world. 

It  has  been  truly  said  that  science  is  the  hand- 
maid of  religion ;  and  it  may  be  as  truly  said  that 
religion,  especially  revealed  religion,  is  the  patroness 
of  science  ;  for,  though  its  direct  object  is  to  make 
man  holy,  in  effecting  this  it  cannot  fail  to  make  him 
wise  also.  Without  regard  to  rank  or  condition,  the 
Bible  furnishes  both  the  means  and  motives  to  im- 
provement, in  whatever  language  it  is  read,  and  far 
as  its  editions  circulate.  Imbodying  a  system  of 
history  the  most  authentic  and  the  most  ancient,  a 
system  of  morals  the  most  pure,  and  of  theology 
the  most  sublime,  it  carries  this  epitome  of  universal 
truth  to  every  cottage,  bringing  its  quickening  and 
mighty  influence  to  bear  on  the  native  elements  of 
individual  character,  as  they  exist  in  all  the  varieties 
of  a  changeful  and  scattered  population.  Its  spe- 
cimens of  composition  are  as  finished  as  its  maxims 
of  wisdom  are  profound.  The  study  of  it,  there- 
fore, must  tend  to  purify  the  taste  as  well  as  the 
heart,  to  fix  the  habit  of  investigation,  and  to  sharpen 
the  appetite  for  knowledge  :  nor  is  it  possible  that 
any  kindred  or  nation  should  continue  either  igno- 
rant or  degraded  among  whom  the  Bible  has  been 
distributed,  and  by  whom  it  is  studied  and  revered ; 
and  it  is  now  perceptible  that  the  sphere  it  fills  is 
rapidly  enlarging,  and  that  the  mfluence  it  exerts  is 
becoming  more  extensive  and  decided. 


310  DIFFUSION    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

We  pa&3  onward,  therefore,  to  encounter  new  dif- 
ficulties and  to  achieve  new  triumphs  with  increased 
confidence,  inasmuch  as  reHgion  is  bringing  fresh 
auxiliaries  to  our  aid,  and  experience  supplying  new 
proofs  that  God  is  on  our  side.  It  can  no  longer 
be  a  question  whether  the  world  is  to  be  filled  with 
other  knowledge,  since  it  is  about  to  be  filled  with 
the  knowledge  of  his  word. 

There  was  a  time  when  priests  alone  were  capa- 
ble of  reading,  and  when  even  many  of  them  pos- 
sessed not  the  Bible.  Now  its  entire  text  is  stereo- 
typed in  different  languages,  and  the  press  in  many 
a  land  is  perpetually  employed  in  throwing  off  new 
copies  of  the  history  of  Moses,  the  dramatic  com- 
positions of  Job,  the  Lyrics  of  David,  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon,  the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah,  the  Lamenta- 
tions of  Jeremiah,  and  the  piercing  rebuke  of  Zeph- 
aniah  and  Habakkuk ;  together  with  whatever  else  of 
wisdom  and  goodness,  of  grace  and  mercy,  of  beau- 
ty and  grandeur,  either  the  prophets  or  evangelists 
contain.  Agents,  too,  are  actively  employed  in  scat- 
tering these  productions  among  every  caste,  and 
wide  as  the  race  of  men  are  scattered. 

And  is  it  to  be  believed  that  the  Scriptures  of  both 
Testaments  are  to  be  read  by  the  millions  of  the  hu- 
man family,  and  yet  those  millions  continue  to  groan 
in  bondage  and  grovel  in  ignorance  1  Where  has 
the  Bible  ever  entered  that  arts  and  science,  that  mu- 
sic, and  painting,  and  sculpture,  and  poetry,  and  elo- 
quence have  not  followed  in  its  train  1  Nowhere ; 
nor  will  it  hereafter. 

Within  the  limits  traced  by  its  circulation,  even 
ttow  is  found  all  that  renders  life  a  blessing  and  being 


OBLIGATIONS  OF  SCIENCE   TO  THE  BIBLE.  811 

desirable  ;  but  cross  those  limits,  and  you  leave  be- 
hind you  whatever  is  lofty  and  endearing,  and  you 
see  around  you  only  that  which  is  debased  and  re- 
volting. 

To  the  Bible  science  owes  a  mighty  debt,  which 
the  friends  of  science  should  be  neither  reluctant  to 
acknowledge  nor  slack  to  pay.  Nor  is  it  only  on 
account  of  the  aid  it  gives  to  other  science,  but  also 
on  account  of  that  science  which  itself  alone  con- 
tains, that  we  are  called  upon  to  array  ourselves 
among  its  advocates  and  its  defenders. 

The  advance  of  political  science  will,  it  may  be 
hoped,  ameliorate  the  sufferings,  multiply  the  com- 
forts, extend  the  privileges,  and  elevate  the  character 
of  man.  The  world  itself  may  perchance  become  a 
republic  in  government  as  well  as  letters.  Progress 
in  the  arts  may  increase  the  efficacy  of  remedies, 
diminish  the  inveteracy  of  diseases,  and  prolong  the 
duration  of  life.  Still  death  will  be  not  the  less 
dreadful,  since  it  will  be  not  the  less  inevitable. 
There  is  a  limit  to  everything  but  omnipotence  ;  and, 
however  skill  may  delay,  it  cannot  prevent  man's 
ultimate  mortality. 

The  grave  is,  and,  in  spite  of  all  our  efforts,  will 
continue  to  be,  as  appointed,  the  house  of  all  living. 
No  elixir  that  will  render  man  immortal  remains  by 
future  analysis  to  be  revealed.  Nor  is  there  any 
hope  that  synthetic  chymistry  will,  in  its  progress, 
reverse  the  process  of  final  dissolution,  recompose 
the  ashes  of  the  urn,  and  reproduce  those  fabrics  de- 
molished by  death.  In  the  mean  time,  shadowy 
forms  satisfy  not  the  fabled  inhabitants  even  of  Elys- 
ian  fields  ;  nor  has  philosophy  been  able  to  discover 


312      UNION    OF    SCIENCE    AND   RELIGION. 

a  more  substantial  residence,  or  song  to  inspire  a 
less  visionary  hope. 

After  all,  it  is  the  Bible,  and  the  Bible  only,  that 
meets  the  case,  and  supplies  a  remedy  to  the  mis- 
eries of  man.  Its  sublimer  chymistry,  distancing 
our  puny  efforts  and  dissipating  our  childish  fears, 
reveals  a  process  by  which  the  desolations  oi  a  thou- 
sand generations  shall  in  a  moment  be  repaired,  and 
heaven  enriched  with  new  forms  of  beauty,  repro- 
duced immortal  from  the  ruins  of  the  sepulchre. 

Astronomy,  indeed,  has  disabused  reason  of  many 
a  superstition,  and  extended  to  many  an  unknown 
orb  the  range  of  human  vision  ;  but  no  star  which 
the  telescope  reveals  casts  so  benign  or  cheering  a 
light  across  a  benighted  sinner's  pathway  as  the  Star 
of  Bethlehem  ;  nor  does  any  sun  guide  up  the  eye 
of  man  to  a  firmament  so  high,  so  holy,  or  so  endu- 
ring, as  that  made  visible  by  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness. 

Let  us,  then,  hereafter  connect  Jerusalem  with 
.^.ihens  ;  entwine  the  ivy  of  Parnassus  around  the 
cedar  of  Lebanon  ;  weave  into  the  wreath  of  flow- 
erets plucked  from  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  the  rose  ot 
Sharon,  and  remember  at  our  festivals  that  among 
the  hills  of  Palestine  there  is  a  hill  of  tenderer  in- 
terest and  of  higher  hope  than  either  Ida  or  Olympus. 
Yes  :  let  us  plant  the  baoner  of  religion  in  the  vesti- 
bule of  science ;  nor  feel  that  our  object  is  accom- 
plishod  till  we  shall  have  rendered  her  temple,  al- 
ready sacred  to  Truth,  sacred  also  to  Dev-iiiioa. 

TliE    EJ«Pv 


(1  ,   •  C.WT*" 


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